Dancing In the Darkness
by Charlotte NiQueen
Summary: After witnessing her parents' brutal murder, Rosie Simon finds herself as a subject of S.H.I.E.L.D. Terrorists and dark forces are after her, and a poison inside her body is slowly making its way to her heart. She has secrets yet to uncover, and the Avengers ready to kill her or accept her at any moment. (Sorry, I'm bad with summaries...) Eventual OCxSomeone. M for future themes!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"I love you, my sweet Roslyn. Always remember that."

Those were my mother's last words as she slipped away into oblivion. I felt her hand go limp in my hand, and I was powerless to do nothing except watch in horror as her once fierce green eyes glazed over. I stared at her through tear-filled eyes. The blood pounded inside my head. It couldn't end like this!

"Mom?" I felt my voice cracking. I shook her body gently. "Mom?!" She didn't move. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

I cradled my mother's body in my arms, tears already streaming down my face. I looked over at my father. He was lying face down on the other side of the room. His chest was moving, but just barely. My entire body jerked as a strange noise came from my throat. It had been a sob.

I slowly lowered my mother's corpse down to the floor, then crawled over to my miraculously still breathing father, avoiding the overturned furniture and broken glass that was strewn about our once beautiful home. "Dad?" I said softly, my voice almost inaudibly low. I was too scared to speak above a whisper. If I made any sound that was too loud, the murderers might come back.

"Dad?" I whispered again. "Dad, please… Try and hold on." I could only watch as my dad took a shaky breath. The dark liquid poured from his chest, creating an oozing puddle around him that glistened in the dim light. It was blood.

"Roslyn," he breathed. Dad never used my full name. Only once, maybe twice, when he was absolutely furious with me. But now he wasn't furious. Now he was dying. He was at death's door, and he was trying to breathe out his last words before he slipped away forever. The tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"It's okay, Dad," I whispered. I took his hand into mine. It was already cold, and agonizingly limp. "You're gonna be okay."

He shook his head slowly with the little effort he had left. "No…" he whispered weakly. "Roslyn…" He was cut off by a violent gasp. I gripped his hand tightly. My dad's brown eyes locked with mine. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul—his eyes told me that his soul was nearly gone.

"Roslyn," he tried again. He knew he didn't have much time left. He swallowed hard. "I love you, sweetheart. You're the world to me…"

"Dad, no…" I whispered. His breath hitched in his throat. "I love…" he started, but he would never get the chance to finish. His eyes glazed over as his soul retreated from his body. His hand fell limp in my hand.

"Dad!" I cried. But I knew that it was no use. Both he and Mom were gone.

Gone. Both of them. Dead, done for. They'd kicked the bucket, cashed in their chips, breathed their last. The only people who ever took care of me were finished, dead. Murdered. I was barely able to wrap my mind around it. The thought alone had the power to crush me completely.

Behind me, the floorboards creaked. "Rosie…" I heard a voice from behind me, calm and soothing, a voice I knew but couldn't place. Not right now at least.

"They're dead," I cried, staring at my father's lifeless body, clutching his hand as if somehow I could pull his soul back to his body and bring him back to life. "They're gone," I repeated, more to myself than to the man. "Both of them."

"I know," said the voice. "I ordered the murders."

A chill ran up my spine. My entire body went numb, an indescribable rage pouring through every fiber of my being. My father's hand fell from my hand as I looked up, horrified at the murderer. I didn't get to see his face before everything went black.

I screamed.

**Okay, so I'm sorry if that sucked a little bit, I'm always really bad at starting stories. Please don't kill me, I promise it'll get better! Anyway, chapter 2 should be updated soon, and no, the character is not me, I just like her name. Her name's Carly by the way… She only gets called Charlotte a couple of times. Okay, I'll try to get the next chapter up soon! Love y'all!**

**-Charlotte (not the one in the story)**

**UPDATE: Okay, so it didn't sit right with me that my character and I had the same name. It just kind of felt weird… so I hope y'all don't mind my indecisiveness, but I've changed Carly's name to Roslyn, Rosie or Rose for short. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It was May 10th, a blistering hot summer day in Malibu, California. Tony Stark and Pepper Potts were lounging comfortably in their billion-dollar home, sunlight pouring through every window.

Their day had been pretty good so far. Actually, I take that back. Their day had already been pretty damn excellent. Tony had, by some bizarre miracle, actually slept a full eight hours the night before, something that rarely happened since the Wormhole Incident. He fought back a shudder. That seemed to happen any time he thought about the… _Incident._ The memories were still vivid in his brain. He could still taste the fear that made his tongue swell, see the darkness of space as his body retreated back to Earth…

"Something wrong?" Pepper asked from across the table. Breakfast was strewn between them, a feast of French toast, eggs, fruits, and stacks of waffles. Tony, who must've been making an odd face as he replayed the _Incident_ over again in his mind, shook his head and replied with a, "Nothing." And his response wasn't entirely a lie. There was nothing truly wrong with his life. He was rich, he was the Iron Man, and he had the most beautiful woman in the world sitting merely feet away from him. He couldn't be happier.

But all of this was about to change, for him and for the rest of the Avengers, with the mere ring of a doorbell.

"Doorbell, sir," Jarvis said.

"Who is it?" Tony asked. "Name?"

"Nick Fury, I believe, sir," he said. Fear immediately struck both Pepper and Tony. It was never a good thing when a Nick Fury came to the door. "But, I assure you, it's probably nothing to worry about, sir. Perhaps a kitten is stuck in a tree nearby," Jarvis suggested, assuring them with a soothing British accent.

Before either of them could react, there was a loud banging at the door. "STARK!"

Pepper sighed, mumbling something into her red coffee mug that sounded like, "Fury these days…" and rose to get the door.

"No, no, I'll get it," Tony said, urging her to sit back down. "Wouldn't want you overworking those sexy legs of yours." He winked at her, and Pepper rolled her eyes, a smile playing at her lips.

Tony Stark had no idea that with each step he took to the door, the closer he was to sealing his fate. Now, I could say that he turned around. I could say that he ignored Fury until later notice. I could even say that he had the balls to tell Fury to get lost before slamming the door in his face. But Tony Stark did none of these things. If he had, there would be no story.

He opened the door, and was met by Fury's dark clothing and intimidating eye patch. "What's up, doc?" Stark said, leaning quite comfortably against the door frame. "Wanna come in? We've got a whole big breakfast in there, but I'm not exactly sure people like you, you know, do things like breakfast." Tony's gaze flickered to Fury's long black coat that he always wore, apparently even in May. Intimidating.

"Funny," Fury said, but his expression was far from amused. He wasn't in the mood for Tony's immature games.

"If it was funny you should've laughed," Tony said, biting into a waffle he'd taken with him.

Fury rolled his eyes. Well, he rolled his eye. "We have a situation," his voice was almost monotone, and reeking with severity.

Tony didn't do so much as shrug at Fury's icy tone. "Don't we always?" he said through a mouthful of waffle.

Fury shook his head, a dark look in his eye. "Not like this," he said. "We haven't seen a situation like this before, Stark. Not even the most experienced agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. We might have to call the Avengers initiative back together."

Tony's eyes widened, and he gulped down the bit of waffle he'd been chewing. "Couldn't you have at least waited until I finished breakfast?"

"Yes," Fury said simply. "But I chose not to."

"Tony?" Pepper called, heels clacking as she made her way to the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine, Pepper," Fury said calmly before Tony could respond. "Tony just needs to come down to the office for a little while."

"Office?" Tony questioned, his voice low enough so Pepper didn't have a chance of hearing him. "The Avengers have no office."

Fury nodded. "Exactly."

**Well, I sure hope I got those characters right… Nick Fury and Iron Man are just so awesome that I'm scared I didn't get their characters right! Oh, well. A for effort! Comment and follow if you like it! Also have some cookies! *throws chocolate chip cookies to all those who comment* Till next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Darkness |ˈdärknis|

Noun

1 the partial or total absence of light.

• night.

• the quality of being dark in color.

2 wickedness or evil.

• unhappiness, distress, or gloom.

• secrecy or mystery.

**Rosie:**

I woke up, and my mind was groggy. My eyes opened very slowly. The light was bright, so bright it nearly burned. Definitely not sunlight. I groaned, my hand instinctively going to shield my eyes. My vision was blurry, going in and out of focus like bad glasses. I squinted, blinking away the darkness of sleep, trying to adjust to the light as my vision cleared.

Four, white cinderblock walls surrounded me. Needles, tubes, and other medical appliances were strewn in boxes and all over the counters in neat, organized little stacks. An X-ray hung on the wall, indicating that a couple of my ribs were broken. Another showed a image of my spine, three red circles highlighting different parts. Behind me, a heart monitor beeped soundly. A hospital room, I realized. I was in a hospital room.

Unlike in the movies, I didn't have to rack my brain for memories as to why I was here. The memories flooded through my brain before I could stop them, like a vicious tsunami. I remembered everything from that night. I remembered how the murderers came through the doors, knocking everything down in their way. They wore dark clothing, their features obscured by heavy hoods. I remember my mother hurrying me into a closet, telling me to keep quiet. I remembered watching as the murderers came into the room, and stabbed my mother without a second thought. They then turned on my father, who was desperately trying to pull the attackers away from my mother, screaming as he did so.

"You bastards!" he shouted. "You bastards, I'll fucking kill you!"

His profanities were cut of by a sickening sound. I clapped my hand over my mouth, tears forming in my eyes as they yanked the bloody knife out of my father's stomach. I didn't know exactly how long the bloody horror went on for, but the murderers' weren't satisfied until stab wounds completely covered my parents' bodies and blood dripped down the walls.

Sick, twisted bastards.

And then they were gone, like a magic act. They vanished without a trace. As quickly as they came, they had left, leaving a murderous bloody mess in their wake. The lights were nearly all gone, furniture was ripped and shredded, fires had broken out in several rooms, blood stained the walls, and shards of bloody glass lay strewn on the floor. But worst of all, my parents lay in dark pools on the floor.

I felt the tears stinging my eyes again. I tilted my head towards the ceiling, trying to push the burning tears back. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door opened, and a curly blonde nurse practically skipped into the room. Behind her, a tall man with glasses who I knew was the doctor.

"Oh!" the nurse cried in the same voice a Disney princess would use. She was worse than an alarm clock. I was irritated already. "You're awake!"

"Norma, how many times have I told you to let me into the room first," the doctor said. His voice wasn't annoyed, but rather tired. "Especially after our patients have woken up from sleep."

"Sorry, sir!" Norma the Annoying Nurse said chipperly. The doctor didn't even do so much as sigh before he turned to me. A weary smile was etched onto his lips.

"Miss Roslyn Isabella Simon," the doctor said, more of a statement than a question. I bit back a wince. The only person who ever called me by my full and complete name was my mother.

"Yes," I said, my voice smoother than I expected. "That's me."

The doctor nodded as Annoying Norma Nurse was close to bouncing in place. God, was she just going to blast off at any second? What was this woman smoking?

"Miss Simon, you've been through a rather unfortunate turn of events," the doctor said. "What exactly do you remember?"

I swallowed hard. The last thing I wanted to talk about was witnessing my parents' murder. The memories were already replaying over and over again in my mind. It already felt like someone had torn out my heart, and the fact that I kept seeing their lifeless faces in my head wasn't going to help.

"I remember enough," I told him truthfully, trying to mask any pain and make my weak voice sound strong. The doctor shook his head, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I know it's difficult, Miss Simon, but it's very important that you tell me," he said. "I need to make sure your brain is stable."

I didn't want to. If I even thought about it I would cry, let alone talk about it. And there was nothing I hated more than showing my emotions to people, especially crying. And I didn't want to burst out into tears in front of random strangers.

"I remember the murders," was all I could bring myself to say. The doctor nodded, and scribbled something down in his blue folder. When he looked back at me, his expression was unreadable.

"What about the murderers?" the doctor asked.

"I couldn't see any faces," I said. "They all wore hoods." The doctor nodded again, and checked something off on the paper.

"Miss Simon," the doctor said, looking up at me. "There are some things that we need you to become…" the doctor searched for the right word. "Acquainted with."

I nodded. "Alright." How bad could it be? He would probably just tell me I had two broken ribs and I'd be here for a couple of weeks. That was a piece of cake. What I was really concerned about was finding coffins and grave plots for my parents.

"As you can see on these X-rays," he pointed to the pictures with the tip of his pen. "Two of your ribs were broken by your attacker. Here and here," he gestured to the two cracks in my ribs with the tip of his pen. Well, I knew that already. "You also received various gashes on your legs, arms, and stomach, but some of those were defensive wounds." That made sense. I had tried to throw a swing or two at the man before I blacked out. The doctor took a deep breath. "And your spine received several fractures."

Processing.

Compute.

"What?" My voice was close to a shout. I sat straight up in the hospital bed, my hand flying to my back. There was no brace, not even a board to keep my back straight. Nothing. I looked at the doctor with a horrified expression.

"Spinal fractures don't heal overnight," I said, thinking aloud. The doctor nodded, taking a step towards my bed.

"You're quite right. They don't," he said. His tone was professional, but in his eyes I saw some things that I didn't want to see—confusion. Bemusement. Astonishment. He took a deep breath, and I never could have prepared myself for what he said next.

"Miss Simon, you've been asleep for four months," he said. He didn't stop for me to process that. "It's May. The accident happened back in January."

A noise escaped from my mouth that was in between a gasp and a scream. Four months?! I'd been asleep for four months?!

"That's not all," the doctor went on. "Spinal fractures usually take roughly about eight to twelve weeks to heal but," the astonishment was back in his eyes, this time mixed with a bit of wonder, "your _three_ fractures healed in _two nights_."

My mouth fell open. Someone gave a small scream. I realized that it had been me. I had always been the world's slowest healer. It usually took me a week to heal from a damn paper-cut! And now this doctor—who was looking at me like I was a freak of nature, but also his greatest patient—was trying to tell me that my spinal injuries healed in _two damn nights_?!

"Doctor, I—" I began. I was cut off as the heavy hospital door slammed open, and a man walked into the room.

He was by far the most intimidating man I've ever seen. He was tall, a giant, probably a 6'4 compared to my tiny 5'1. His skin was dark, like the color of chocolate, and his clothes were all black. Black shirt, black pants, heavy black boots, floor-length black coat, even his watch was black. So was his eye patch. I forced myself to look him dead in the eye, ignoring the chills that raced up my spine when I saw the jagged scar that ran into his eye patch, disappeared, and then ran out the other side.

"Doctor," the man said, not removing his eye from mine as he nodded at the clearly intimidated doctor. "My name is Nick Fury. I'll take it from here."

**Again, this chapter is long and kind of bad, but please, please, please, for the love of God and Iron Man's sexiness, tell me if I'm going too fast! I'm totally open to anything y'all have to say so comment or message or whatever you like! Woohoo I'm eating so many Peeps right now! Here, have some delicious marshmallowy Peeps! *throws candy* Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"You know, if you wanted alone time with me, all you had to do was ask," Tony said. The two of them were sitting—more like lounging—snugly in Fury's highly expensive, sleek black car. It sped along the highway, weaving between cars expertly and going well over the speed limit. They were applauded with a series of honks and strings of profanities.

"Where are the others, exactly?" Tony asked, putting his feet up on the dash. It earned him a horrifying glare from Fury.

"Natasha and Clint got to the base last night. They picked up Banner who happened to be in town. Rogers should be there at the same time we will," Fury said. "And get your feet off my dash."

"What about Shakespeare?" Tony asked. "Or is he back up in Shakespeare Land doing important Shakespeare-ian business?" He paused for a moment. "Like poetry," he added.

Fury acted like he didn't hear Tony's last comments. "_Thor_," he said firmly. "Is back in Asgard. After what happened with Loki and New York, he has a deal of cleaning up to do back home."

Tony couldn't care less. "So I'm the only one who got the special Fury Limo Service?" Tony said, reclining the seat. "I feel special." The amount of sarcasm in his voice was immense.

"Don't flatter yourself," Fury growled, jerking the wheel to the left. They swerved just in time, missing a red convertible my mere centimeters. "You're the only one I had to drag from Malibu to New York. And get your feet _off my dash_."

"I'm the Iron Man," Tony replied, folding his hands behind his head. "I'll do what I want."

The car suddenly jerked to a halt. Tony flew forward violently, then jerked backwards. The back of his head throbbed as it hit against the seat. He glared at Fury, who had somewhat of a smirk on his features. "If you want to get out," he said. "We're here."

"Observant of you," Tony said, wincing as his back cracked in places it shouldn't've. He climbed out of the car, looking up at the grand towering wonder that was the S.H.I.E.L.D. base.

"I love what you've done with the place," Tony said sarcastically. Behind him, the engine of a motorcycle died down.

"Oh, look! It's Spangles!" Tony said in a clearly unexcited tone. "What's the matter, Cap? Didn't anyone tell you this was strictly Stark business?"

"You—" Steve began.

"Leave it, Rogers," Natasha said, appearing out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. doorway, shutting Steve Rogers up before he even got the chance to utter the extremely witty comment he'd been working on all day. Tony gave Steve a smug smile before turning to Natasha.

"Afternoon, Natasha. Nice spanks suit," Tony said. "Almost as good as Spangles'."

Steve rolled his eyes and let out a noise that could be considered a scoff, mumbling something under his breath. Natasha didn't even give him so much as a sideways glace. Instead, she turned to Fury. "The girl's stable," she said. "But we don't know for how long." Her voice was urgent. "We need to question before she explodes again."

**Rosie**:

I had lost track of how many hours I'd been here. Maybe three hours, maybe even four. Hell, for all I knew, it might have been five days. Either way, it seemed like ages. It felt like that, anyway. There were no windows in this prison-like interrogation room. Just grey walls, and a long metal table with some black chairs scattered around it. The door was bolted shut with a severe amount of security checks even I, a skilled programmer, couldn't hope to hack. Yes, I'd already tried escaping. But there was one way in, no way out. I scoffed. Classic government action film cliché.

To make matters worse, I didn't even get my one phone call. Not that I really had anyone to call, but the thought was nice.

But the worst part above all was that there was no clock in this all grey room. Actually, there was. There was one clock firmly planted on the wall that I soon found no longer worked. Instead, it was permanently frozen at two o'clock.

_Damn_.

And they didn't even give me a baseball to throw around, for that matter. Or donuts. In every interrogation scene I've seen, the person being interrogated _always_ gets a plate of donuts. Maybe it was different in real life, but I could really go for a chocolate frosted sprinkle right about now.

I mean, I was bored as _hell_. I'd paced back and forth around the room countless times. I'd spun around in the uncomfortable black chair, lay on the table, braided my long red hair, and even poked at the tinted mirror until I realized that it was no mirror, but instead two-way glass. Damn government agents were spying on me.

_Should've seen that one coming_.

I let out a bored sigh, sinking deeper into the chair. _Tick…. tick… tick… tick…_ The clock continued to tick although it was broken. I glared at it, wishing I could smash it in two. It was infuriatingly annoying. I wondered if Fury did it on purpose.

Fury. I snarled at the thought of him. Leather-wearing fool who thought he knew everything. As soon as the doctor had left my hospital room, a formidable tension filled the air between us. Fury turned to me with a an expression that was permanently set in a scowl, his one dark brown eye indicating business. He said that he was some sort of government agent—S.H.I.E.L.D., or something like that—and that I was now government property.

"Government property?" I'd repeated his words, practically growling. "Who do you think you are, telling me I'm property?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest when I said that, but his expression remained serious. "Miss Roslyn…"

"Rosie," I interjected. I already hated him calling me Roslyn.

"Miss _Roslyn_," he repeated, his voice more rigid and forceful this time. "As of right now, you are viewed by S.H.I.E.L.D. as a highly hazardous subject."

"Hazardous?" I said. "What are you talking about? I'm a seventeen-year-old girl, for crying out loud!"

"I'm well aware of that, Miss Roslyn," Fury said. "I've gone over your file more times than I can remember."

So this S.H.I.E.L.D. had a file on me? "Exactly how long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough." There was no emotion in his voice. He stood very straight, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. So it was going to be like that, was it?

"What is S.H.I.E.L.D.?" I asked. Fury smiled in a I-knew-you-were-going-to-ask-that sort of way. His heavy boots clunked as he came towards my hospital bed.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is a government agency," he said. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." He sounded like he was quoting a handbook. "We're a counterterrorism and intelligence agency that monitors anything everything from underground terrorist groups to invading aliens."

I raised an eyebrow. "Terrorist groups and invading aliens?" I said. "So, you basically have to protect the earth from the entire universe, and you're worried about me, a girl from Los Angeles? Seems a bit far-fetched, don't you think?"

"Our system is programmed to detect threats, Miss Roslyn," Fury said. "When it detects a threat, it scales it on a scale of one through seven, with one being a mild threat and seven being extremely hazardous."

"Let me guess. Your system detected that somehow, I was a threat, so your phase one was to march down here and see for yourself if I'm as threatening as your system claims. And, if I am, your phase two would be to kidnap me or throw me into the back of some government van and drive me off to a undisclosed location to experiment on me to your heart's content," I said. My words were laced with poison. Not enough to kill, just enough to let him know that I meant business, also. "Well, I'm sorry, mister, but I'm no threat, so you can take your black coat and your eye patch and march back to whatever security-camera building you came out of."

Fury's eyes widened a bit. It surprised me a bit; didn't expect a response from him. "You certainly have your father's fire," he didn't sound surprised. It was more like he was expecting it.

"Don't go there," I growled, anger swelling in every muscle in my body. "You said you've read my file, which means you know the truth."

"On the contrary, Roslyn, I knew the truth long before you ever did," he said. "And I didn't have to read your file to know it."

"What do you want with me?" I said, changing the subject before he decided to delve deeper into the conversation of my father. "You said this system detected me, and now you're here to investigate. So go on. Investigate."

Fury's one eye narrowed. "I plan to," he said.

Then he slapped me across the face.

At first, it was a shock.

_He'd hit me._

_He'd hit me!_

_Oh my God, he hit me!_

Then came the rage. It boiled through my entire body, but it wasn't like any rage I'd felt before. It washed my body in white-hot liquid, closing my mind off to any and all rational thoughts. I let out a roar of outrage, and clawed at Fury with fury. If I got him in my grasp, I swear I'd kill him. Fury stared at me with an expression of both shock and amazement.

"The system was right," he murmured to himself. "Level seven."

I threw my head back and let out a howling scream. Pain seared through my chest and into my heart. There was something inside me, burning me up. It was going to kill me. I was sure of it. I clawed at my chest, desperately trying to get out the poison that was eating me alive.

Black hair whirled around my face. Wait… Black hair? I didn't have black hair! But yet I did. I let out a cry of confusion. This was wrong. What was happening to me?!

I screamed as dark veins protruded from my skin. Black liquid that was most certainly not blood was coursing through them. That must be the poison.

_I was going to die_.

I screamed again as my eyes burned. I couldn't see anything, the burning was too much. Someone had poured acid in my eyes! I was going blind. I was going blind, and I was dying.

Then everything went dark.

I awoke in the interrogation-like room, and I'd been stuck here ever since. It was one to many times I'd woken up in an unknown place for today. And without food. But actually, now that I thought about it, no wonder nobody gave me a plate of donuts. I'd practically turned into a monster back at the hospital, all over a slap that actually didn't hurt too bad. No doubt I was the talk of all S.H.I.E.L.D. I didn't blame anyone for not coming into the room, now. I'd be too scared to come into the room, too.

_Scratch that last_.

I ran a hand through my long straight hair as the door flew open. But this time, it wasn't just Fury. There were three others, and probably more watching through the dark mirror-glass. They all stared at me like I was some sort of a freak show, which I guess I was. There was a tall man with dark hair, his glasses askew on his face, another with short blonde hair and boyish features that had a brown leather jacket pulled over his broad shoulders, and last but not least a man I knew all too well who had dark brown hair and a decent amount of scruff on his chin. I knew them all instantly.

These were the Avengers.

I was in some deep shit.

**HEHEHEHEHE I'M SO EXCITED. There's literally so many plot-twists coming up and I'm going to write SO MANY CLIFFHANGERS! If y'all can't tell, I'm already pretty excited. Seriously. You have no idea what's coming. And if you think you do, THERE WILL BE SO MANY PLOT TWISTS ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY. MWAHAHAHA. Okay, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**Now for responses to reviews:**

**First off, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! Okay, moving on…**

**Guest—thank you! I'm sooo happy you liked it and I'll move as quickly as I can!**

**ninjaonfire—I'm so glad you found it intriguing! I was writing it and I thought there were too many cliffhangers so I didn't know if that would draw people in or not! And Roslyn knows the voice back in the first chapter, but she can't match it to a face, but that's kind of explained in the next chapter. And she's supposed to be seventeen, which is also covered in the next chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Rosie:**

They were all looking at me with the same expression. Well, not exactly the _same _expression, but they were all very similar. Tony looked completely confused, the Captain seemed totally and utterly shocked, and Bruce Banner had to readjust his glasses to make sure he was seeing properly.

"You said she was level seven material," Bruce was the first to speak out of all of them, turning his dark head to Fury. "She's a kid."

"She sure looks like it, doesn't she?" Fury said. "Like a harmless little bird. Get in and close the door. She's thinking about escaping."

_Dammit_.

How did he know? Was this man also some sort of mind-reader? Was that the power of the eye patch? Because he was reading me like a book. I _was_ thinking about escaping. As soon as that door opened, my mind was rapidly calculating my chances of escape, thinking about pushing past all of them and bolting for the nearest exit. My chances, I concluded, were slim to none. I could probably take on Bruce as long as he didn't Hulk out and go green on me. I could easily knee Tony in the balls, and I might even be able to slip past Fury. It was Captain America that was my problem. I'd never been much of a runner, and he'd probably catch me before I even made it halfway to an exit.

I watched the three of them come into the room, not one of them hesitant, each of them taking seats at the long metal table. Fury placed himself at the center. His eye flickered to mine.

"Sit." He wasn't asking—it was a command.

I scoffed, kicking the chair in. I wasn't sitting, and I'd remain standing because I damn felt like it. I saw the Captain's eyes widen a bit. "Sorry, _sir_. I'm not like them," I said, eyeing the three Avengers. "I don't work for you, so you don't get the pleasure of ordering me around."

"Now I see why she's a level seven," Bruce commented, more to himself than anyone else. Fury didn't even so much as blink at him. Instead, he held my gaze, which was more of a glare than anything.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Fury warned, then turned his attention back to me. "Back in the hospital, you only proved my point that you were a level seven, Roslyn. And what I saw you do is something I've never seen before. Not even from aliens."

"I'm flattered," I said, my voice cold. "Now let me go home."

"What's your name?" the Captain asked. I looked at him, a bit surprised. I was expecting a lot of questions, but not that one. My eyes met his, and I couldn't help but notice how astonishingly blue they were. He was incredibly handsome. _But he's an Avenger_, I reminded myself. _He's with Fury, and Fury's the enemy_.

"Roslyn Simon," I said simply. "But Rosie works just fine." I flickered my gaze to Fury. "Didn't even take the time to brief them?"

"I told them all they need to know," Fury said, but he passed a folder to the soldier anyway. A folder that had my name on it in big red letters, along with the word CONFIDENTIAL. "That you were dangerous and not someone to be underestimated."

I both liked and hated the way that sounded. Good because I wasn't underestimated, despite my age and short, thin frame. Bad because he said I was _dangerous_. It's true that every girl wants a certain amount of danger about her, but when that danger is some sort of unknown poison-venom floating around inside my body, the last thing I wanted to be was dangerous. Plus, danger meant that I was on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar, which was something I wanted to erase myself from as soon as possible.

"You're only seventeen," Bruce said, shocked, reading over the Captain's shoulder.

"Eighteen in August," I said. "Then I can sue this damn place."

"Won't work," said Tony, who had been watching me with pure calculation the whole time. "I've tried."

"Roslyn," Fury said, pulling the conversation back to me. "I don't put things lightly for anyone else, and I won't do it for you, either."

_Well, of course you won't. You're some sort of distant, calculating, mind-reading-eye-patch-wearing mastermind that calls all the shots. Even if you did sugar-coat things for everyone else, you sure as hell won't do it for me._

"Not only are you a danger to S.H.I.E.L.D. and the rest of our nation," Fury said. "But you are a suspect of your parents' murder."

The words went through me like a knife. How _dare_ they accuse me of the murder of my own _parents_! They could lock me in a room, they could experiment on me, and they could label me a level seven until the cows came home, but one thing they _could not do_ under _any_ circumstances was accuse me of murdering my parents.

"Go to hell!" I heard myself shriek. "How _dare_ you accuse me of murder!"

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Do you have an alibi?"

"I was there! I fucking _watched it_!" I saw Bruce and the Captain's—who I was pretty sure his name was Steve—eyes widen. "I had to watch those three sick bastards stab them to death!"

Before I could get anything else out, I cried out shrilly, clutching my chest and crumpling to the ground. The poison was burning inside of me again. It was eating away at my heart, and at the same time surging through the rest of my limbs. The more I tried to push it back, the more it raged relentlessly. I let out a sound that could be considered a whimper. Why did this poison happen at the absolute worst of times?

"What's happening to her?" Bruce asked.

"The same thing that happened in the hospital. When she gets angry, the poison reacts," Fury answered, his tone raw. "Steve, don't go near her."

It was then that I realized the Captain had risen from his chair, his blue eyes sweeping over me with concern. He mumbled something like, "But she's suffering…" In response, Bruce slowly lowered him back into his seat. Tony was watching me silently, his expression somewhat shocked. His hand was rested firmly on something in his jean pocket, probably a device ready to summon the Iron Man suit if I got out of control.

Somehow, I was able to look up at all of them through strands of my orange hair. Fury's stiff expression hadn't changed. "There were three killers?" Fury asked, continuing his questions, knowing I was vulnerable. "Which one attacked you?"

"After the three left, there was a fourth one," I gasped, desperate to regain my breath after the burning poison. Oxygen had never tasted so sweet. "He was the one who attacked me."

"And you have no idea who any of them are?"

"No," I panted. "They all wore black hoods. I couldn't see their faces. But the last one, his voice I recognized."

Fury leaned forward in one fluid motion. What I said had intrigued him. "Recognized?"

"Yes," I breathed. "But I can't pinpoint it. All I knew was that I've heard it before. Somewhere…"

Fury leaned back in his chair, dissatisfied but yet still inquisitive. "Try to remember, then," Fury said, his voice demanding instead of sympathetic. "Anything you can remember will help us solve who killed Agent Roth."

He stood, and the three Avengers followed suit. _Wait… _Agent_ Roth? Roth as in… my father?_ "Agent Roth?" I looked up at Fury, confused, my eyes trailing his black coat as he headed for the door. "You mean…"

"Yes. Your father was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents," Fury finished my sentence for me, to which my mouth dropped open. "One of our best, actually."

"He never even told me…" I whispered more to myself than anyone else. Fury didn't so much as raise an eyebrow.

"There are many things you don't know, Roslyn. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Then, without so much as another word, the door opened for the four of them, and he breezed out as easily as if he was walking out of a coffee shop. My mind was swirling with too many thoughts that once the door closed, I realized I'd missed my chance to make a run for it.

My father had been an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. How could I not have known? I racked through every memory I had of him. There were no signs, no warnings, no slip-ups that might have suggested that he was a part of one of the most top-secret government facilities in the world. Fury's words echoed throughout my brain.

_There are many things you don't know, Roslyn…_

_There are many things you don't know, Roslyn…_

_There are many things you don't know, Roslyn…_

_There are many things you don't know…_

I felt the anger, the fear, boiling inside me again. I tried to push it away; the anger lead to the burning poison, which was the last thing I wanted to feel right now. And I knew that was Fury's plan. He wanted to see how angry he could make me. He wanted to see what I was _really_ capable of.

The burning intensified. There was a part of me that cared, that didn't want to test the limits of this poison, that didn't want Fury to know the extent of the burning venom. But the other part of me, the one that was significantly stronger, wanted to know what Fury was talking about at any cost. He knew secrets. He knew secrets about my father, probably about my mother and the rest of my family. Secrets that had been hidden for generations without hope of recovery.

Fury knew something I didn't.

And I wanted to know what it was.

**SO CLOSE TO THE FIRST CLIFFHANGER! Literally so excited right now. I wish my fingers could type faster, but they're so tiny and stubby and always press the wrong damn keys! Anywho, shout out to y'all who favorited/followed Dancing In the Darkness! I love you guys so much right now3 Keep commenting and reviewing and favoriting and following and I should have the next chapter up in a bit. Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"What the hell was that?" Bruce asked, his intense gaze on Fury as the heavy steel door closed firmly behind them, bolting in place. All three Avengers were subtly shell-shocked. A little girl—that little seventeen-year-old girl—had mutated into a monster right before their eyes. Her orange locks had changed into a spill of inky black, and dark veins sprawled across her entire body. She was more horrifying than New York. She had become the embodiment of hell.

"That," Fury answered. "Was your first experience with a level seven. I warned you—she's highly dangerous, and extremely lethal. Nearly took down the entire hospital before without breaking a sweat."

"What exactly is it?" Tony asked. His normally arrogant, cocky persona was gone now, replaced with cold, serious mask that he didn't use often. "What's doing it to her? Because whatever is inside of her body isn't natural."

"Could it be Hydra?" Steve asked, referring to the underground Nazi group that had been deadly back in the 40s. Fury gave him a look so severe that Steve mashed his lips together and regretted asking the question.

"What about gamma radiation?" Bruce asked, their heavy footsteps thudding down the hallway. He knew that the idea that this girl was exposed to gamma radiation was highly impossible, but not so much so that he erased it from the list of possibilities. Maybe she was like him.

"Negative," said Fury. "Whatever is in control of her body, the lab's never seen it before."

He led them into a laboratory room, bustling with people in white lab coats. Maps, pictures, and X-rays were scattered about, and different high-tech computers were strewn across the room, all of them with complex formulas and systems on their screens.

Fury stepped forward, taking a glass vial off one of the tables. "This is what's in her body."

He lifted the vial before the eyes of the three Avengers, dangling the glass tube between two dark fingers. A darkish purple liquid filled the bottle, sloshing against the sides. It's consistency was thick, much too thick to be even blood.

"How did you get that?" Steve asked, brows furrowed as Fury pocketed the vial.

"It was a blood sample," he said. "We did it after she knocked herself out at the hospital."

"Because that's legal," Tony commented.

Fury shot him a glare, to which Tony smirked back in response. Fury decided it was best to ignore him. "We haven't seen anything like it before, not even from the Asgardians. But from what we've gathered, the matter mixed in with her blood is highly toxic and laced with chemicals that should be deadly to even touch. It should've killed her months ago."

"How did it even get into her body?" Bruce asked.

"We speculate that the night Agent Roth was killed, one of her attackers administered it into her body." He clasped his hands firmly behind his back, the posture he used for when he was discussing highly important subjects. "Problem is, we can't find any puncture wounds where the poison could have entered."

"But the way she reacts," Bruce said. "Are you positive it's not gamma radiation?"

"Yes," Fury said. "Why?"

Bruce swallowed hard. It was never easy for him to talk about the Other Guy. "When you mentioned her parents to her," he said. "That she was a suspect, I watched the way she reacted. It looks like something's trying to…" he searched for the right words. "Get out of her. The way her face and her body changed, it reminded me of me. And the fact that it was anger that set her off, I think that you need to consider gamma. Maybe…" the doctor swallowed hard. "Maybe she's like me."

Bruce kept his gaze held upwards, but he wanted to look at the floor. He wouldn't wish that curse on anyone. He desperately hoped that Roslyn wasn't like him, that it was something else inside of her that was causing this. But the facts seemed to clear to him. Anger set her off, she transformed, she became dangerous. She seemed to be more like him than he wanted her to be.

"I'll consider it, Banner," Fury said respectively. "We'll run some tests." And he wasn't lying. He would consider it. At this point, there was nothing he would rule out. Except for the 1940s terrorist group.

"Run some tests?" Steve repeated. "She's not an animal."

"No, but she's dangerous and strong and uncharted," Fury said. "What about that don't you understand?"

The solider shook his head. "Call me old-fashioned, but it doesn't seem right," Steve said. "She's just a little girl."

"She's seventeen and only three months away from becoming an adult," Fury said coldly. "She's not little, and I told you not to underestimate her."

"I'm not underestimating," Steve replied, his voice a bit harsher. "I saw what she did, I was in the room, too. All I'm saying is that maybe you need a different approach. Maybe the testing and the accusing is only making her stronger."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we coddle her instead?" His voice was low and bitter. "You don't take over the enemy by pampering and offering cookies and sweets. You do it by force. I thought you knew that, soldier."

Steve's mind whirled. He despised when Fury got like this, when he went into annihilation mode, when he could think about nothing except overpowering the enemy and stomping them out. He knew Roslyn was dangerous. He could feel it the moment he walked into the room. But she looked so tiny, so utterly _lost_. When he looked at her, he saw the scrawny kid he used to be.

"Ladies," Stark interrupted, staring up at one of the screens that displayed the blueprints of the building. He looked shocked. "Retract the claws. I think we have another problem."

The three men turned to see what Tony was looking at. One by one, each of their mouths dropped. The agents and scientists around the lab ceased bustling about, each of them turning to the screen one by one. Murmurs of, "No," and "How could that happen?" revolved around the room.

"Is that supposed to be happening?" Stark asked, referring to the red circle that was formed around the penitentiary, indicating where the problem was.

"No," Fury whispered. "That's not possible." His eyes were glued to the large red ALERT that had taken over the screens. "_She's escaping_."

**Rosie:**

I collapsed onto the ground with a scream. I couldn't take it anymore! The burning wasn't leaving, but instead it was growing stronger. My brain was crying out, and every nerve in my body was screaming from the heat of the fire. I knew there were agents still watching me. Why wouldn't they help me? I was screaming, writhing, begging anyone that could hear to help me, please.

I howled as the pain ripped my heart open. My skin was going white again, my veins turning black. I was seeing red. I clawed at the table desperately, trying to pull myself back to my feet. I managed to force myself up on my feet again, legs wobbling like a fawn's. I clung to the table desperately for support.

"_Roslyn_," said a voice. I whirled around. The action nearly made me collapse again. But I held myself up, though my knees screamed in response and my hands dug into the table so forcefully my knuckles turned white.

I looked up, hair covering part of my face, eyes resting on the figure the voice belonged to. Standing by the door was a tall figure. He—or she, I couldn't really tell—was wearing a black cloak, which was so long it brushed the floor. I couldn't make out any facial features; the hood on the cloak drooped over its head, obscuring its face from my view.

"_You are blessssed with power, Rossslyn Sssimon…_" the creature spoke. Its voice sounded more like a snake's hiss than spoken words.

"Who are you?" I said through clenched teeth. A scream ripped from my throat again, and I fell to the floor, kneeling helplessly before the creature.

"_Ussse your power, Rossslyn…_"

"What… Power…" I growled, my jaw clenched tightly. I yelled out, grabbing my heart. This thing better start giving my answers, and quickly; the poison was liquefying my insides.

"_They don't fear you for nothing, Rossslyn_," the creature said. A pale, bony hand escaped the cloak. It pointed a skinny finger at the door. "_Let go… Ussse the power… Ussse the darknesssss… Don't suppressss it anymore…_"

I stared at the creature for a moment. It knew. It knew something I didn't, something even Fury didn't. But I didn't question it. I didn't question how it got into the room, how it knew my name. As far as I was concerned, this was some angel sent from God to relieve the suffering.

My blood pounded in my head. All rational thoughts left my mind. I _had_ to listen to the thing. My life depended on it. My back arched towards the ceiling, my body curling upwards. Then I did as the creature instructed.

I let go.

Anger radiated from my body, filling the room filled with a burning blackness. Somewhere, far off over the horizon, an alarm was going off. I could barely hear it. Darkness was exploding from my body, surging out from every pore. The more it exploded from me, the more the poison inside me died.

I collapsed to the floor, not in pain, but in relief. I felt like I was glowing, and my ears were ringing. But the burning was gone. I was free. I wasn't dying anymore. Whatever I'd just done had released me from the hold of the poison, filled me with a sweet sensation I knew to be perseverance. When I looked up, I'd realized what I'd done.

The walls were no longer grey, but streaked with black. The tables and chairs that I had gripped onto not moments ago were disintegrated into tiny piles of dust. The double-way mirror-glass was barely there, almost all of it blown away, and the parts that were still hanging on were blackened with soot. It looked like a bomb had exploded in here. My eyes searched for the creature, but it was no longer there. How could it be? Whatever I'd just done probably killed it.

That was when I realized that the ringing in my ears was actually an alarm. The door was burned down. Wait. _The door was burned down_.

Processing.

Compute.

_Hallelujah._

And just like that, I was sprinting out the door, my mind reeling. The creature had known I'd be able to do that. But how? Had that _thing_ somehow put this into my body? And why did he call it the darkness? More importantly…

_What else was I capable of_?

"There she is!" I heard a man yell down the hall. Gunshots rang through the hallway. I cried out, terrified, flinging my body behind a corner. My hands flew over my body, searching for puncture wounds. I exhaled in relief. I wasn't shot—they missed. But their rapid footsteps were charging down the hallway, and I knew they'd be upon me in seconds.

_Get angry, Rose._

The words came into my mind. I had no choice but to listen to them. I remembered how Fury had accused me of my parents' murder, the rage was burning inside me again, and so was the poison. A man dressed in black—an agent, probably—rounded the corner. I launched myself at him, kicking him hard in the stomach. He cried out, trying to move his gun against my body. I snarled savagely, and grabbed his wrist. There was a sickening crack. He let out a noise that could be described as a scream, and that was when I realized I'd broken his arm. I'd fought people before, a good number of them, actually, but never had I broken someone's arm before. I wasn't strong enough for that. And yet, I'd just done it.

I threw him against the wall without a second thought. He was quick, I'll give him that, recovering and reaching for another gun. But, sadly for him, I was quicker. I kicked him in the head with enough force to cause a decent concussion. Then I went in for the kill. I grabbed him by the throat, hoisting him high into the air. My nails had grown into black talons, digging into his neck, jabbing against his pulse. He opened his mouth to shout, but his air supply was already done for. His eyes widened, bulging out of his head. His face was beginning to go red, then purple. I let out a howling war cry and allowed the poison to flow from my heart, through my arm, and into the suffocating agent. He clawed desperately at my arm, trying to get me away from him. It was no use. I had a death grip on his neck. He was done for.

The whites of his eyes went black, and his skin turned sickly purple. His flesh looked like it was melting away. Part of me felt sick. I didn't want to kill him. This was an innocent man who was just doing his job and obeying orders. But the other part of me, the one controlled by the poison, bared my teeth in a fierce smile as I watched him suffer.

Another gunshot rang out, causing me to drop the man. I looked over at my attacker, a hiss forming in my throat. It was a girl, with short red hair and a stoic expression. Another Avenger.

I knew I couldn't take her on. Nor did I want to. I'd killed one person already, which was more than enough for me. She fired at me again, but I ignored her. I focused on the wall in front of me, my only way out. Then, like in the interrogation room, I let my anger go.

My vision was clearer this time as the poison ripped from my body. It was a deep purple, almost black, and thicker than blood. It collapsed the wall in mere seconds. Bright sunlight streamed in, and I glanced over that the redhead agent, a smirk displayed on my features. She still looked unfazed, and fired another bullet at me.

I was faster. I jumped out into the sunlight. What I hadn't realized was that I was about six stories up and falling rapidly, but before the fear could course through my veins I'd hit the ground, completely unscathed. Rather than question it, I took off running. I was now a wanted subject of S.H.I.E.L.D., and there was no doubt in my mind that Fury was already grabbing his gun and ordering the Avengers after me.

I'd never thought about fighting the Avengers. At least, not before today. But now I was powerful, and it both intrigued and horrified me. I was powerful, I was toxic, and I was a monster. I pushed those thoughts aside, forcing my legs to go faster. I couldn't focus on that right now. I had the Avengers after me.

_It was time to see what I was really capable of_.

**Gosh, I loved writing this chapter (and I hope I wrote it well enough)! It kind of opens up Rosie's powers a little bit, and kind of gives you a glimpse of why she's level seven and why Fury wants her contained so badly. OOPS. Sorry, Fury, but she's OUT! And I like how she's both scared of herself and what she can do, but at the same time wants to explore what she's capable of… Watch out, Avengers, this girl's dangerous! Hahaha, keep following/favoriting/reading and reviewing, and shout to all of those who did already because I love you! Love y'all, and I'll have the next chapter up soon! Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Rosie:**

I'd never been to New York before. I mean, I'd seen it before, of course. It was famous across the globe. Skyscrapers, Broadway, the Statue of Liberty, _Broadway_… I felt like I loved it so much already, but I'd never been, though it was one of my dreams. I knew what it looked like for the most part. I'd the New Year's Eve ball drop in Times Square, and seen dozens of movies set in the Big Apple. But I was a Los Angeles girl, and I'd been trapped there my whole life. I'd always wanted to come to New York, see the sights and all.

But I never thought I'd do it while running from the Avengers.

I didn't know how far I was from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tower. I didn't look back once, but I hoped I'd put a good dozen blocks between us. I just willed my legs to go faster, ignoring the aching burn in my thighs and calves. Stupid skinny jeans were restricting my blood flow. I pushed past the hordes of people on the sidewalks. Their eyes followed me, angry or confused, sometimes muttering profanities under their breath. I didn't care, I couldn't care. It was only a matter of time before Fury and the Avengers would be upon me. And when they were, they'd drag me back to S.H.I.E.L.D., put me in some room with every more security. I snarled at the thought. I wasn't going to go back there, not again. At least not without putting up a decent fight.

The throbbing in my burning lungs pulled me out of my thoughts. I stopped, leaning against a wall of a skyscraper. I was out of breath, my chest heaving and my heart beating a rapid tattoo against my ribs. I had to stop, regain my breath for even just a minute. My eyes darted furiously around me, searching for any sign of the Avengers. Nothing. Just ordinary people, walking on the ordinary sidewalks, doing completely ordinary things.

_I didn't belong with them._

I was a monster, a freak. More than that—I was dangerous, a level seven. One slip up and I could easily kill one of them, maybe even a dozen. And if I exploded, like I had back in the interrogation room, there was no telling how much damage I could cause. Wipe out a whole block, maybe.

I whimpered as the poison lashed out inside my body again. I was angry again, angry with myself. I wanted to control it so desperately, but I didn't know how. My breathing became ragged and irregular, and I ran a hand through my hair, a habit I did when I was nervous. I tried to slow my breathing, bringing air into my lungs in slow, deep breaths, focusing my attention on the sidewalk.

"Excuse me, miss," said a deep, masculine voice. "Are you alright?"

I looked up. There was a man standing before me, clad in an indigo suit, briefcase in hand, eyes filled with concern. He must've noticed the way I was acting._ Shit_. "I'm fine," I lied, trying to curl my lips into a smile.

"But your skin," he said. "There's something _wrong_ with you…"

Adrenaline and fear pumped through my veins. I turned on my heel, and I was met by my reflection in the glass. I gasped, my hands flying to my face. That was me? No, it couldn't be! That was impossible!

But it was me, and I knew it, but I didn't want to accept it. My skin was pale, paler than usual, almost a sickly pale. Eerie dark veins had formed, slithering down my face, across my neck, crackling down my arms and the rest of my body. My nails were long, like talons, and completely black, the same nails that assisted in killing the agent before. My orange-red hair was gone, in its place hair that was black as night. And my eyes, they were what scared me the most. Their normal chocolate brown color was gone, replaced by a cold, bottomless beetle-black. They were the eyes of nightmares. I placed my hand over my heart, where a red dot had formed.

_A red dot_?

_Shit._

_They found me_.

I lunged out of the way, just as a bullet flew into the glass where I'd been standing. One second too late, and I would've been shot. I spun around as people screamed and scattered, trampling and tripping each other as they dashed into the nearest buildings. I barely noticed them; they were just background noise. I snarled as my eyes meet those of the red-haired agent from before. There was nothing but frigid focus in her eyes. She had a gun pointed at my head.

"Don't," I growled. I was trying to push it away, but the anger was swelling, and the only thing I could do was release it. "Please," I begged, my voice nearly a hiss. "I don't want to kill you."

Her eyes narrowed.

She fired again.

I screamed, throwing my hands up to shield myself. I felt the poison flow from my body, and watched in horror and relief as the bullet speeding towards my head dropped, now a pile of ash at my feet. _The poison burned the bullet._ The agent looked stunned, which I decided to use to my advantage.

I kicked her hard in the stomach, grabbing a fistful of her red hair in my talon-like nails, throwing her against a brick wall with strength I didn't know I had. She felt like a rag doll to me. The agent slammed against the wall, hard. Her head, now trickling a stream of blood, lifted. Her eyes were fierce, vengeful and focused. She launched herself at me, and I grabbed hold of her neck, pinning her to the gravel. I felt the poison flow from me again in a burst of black and purple. The agent cried out as her body absorbed the poison.

_BAM._

I was knocked away from the agent. My back hit the pavement, hard. _Bastards!_ Infuriated, I pulled myself to my feet to face my attacker. It was the Iron Man.

"Didn't your mother every teach you to play nice?" Stark said through the famous gold and red mask.

"Not when people are trying to kill me," I said, my voice low and threatening. "She told me to fight back with everything I've got." A dark smile crept across my face. "Looks like you've got the short end of the stick."

"Not exactly." He raised his hand. "_Boom_."

My entire body was thrown backwards by the repulsor blast from the suit. Pain blazed through my body like wildfire. I crashed onto the sidewalk, and it cracked and split beneath me. I didn't even have a chance to pull myself to my feet before Stark was hovering over me, repulsors ready to fire into my head a point-blank range.

"That should've killed you…" He sounded amazed.

"I'm not that easy to kill," I said, raising my hand in the same way he did. "_Boom_."

I unleashed the poison, allowing it to flow out of my body and toss the Iron Man backwards with ease. He flew threw a window, deep into a shop across the street. I picked myself up onto my feet hurriedly, and broke off running down the now deserted streets. It didn't take much to send these people scattering. Although if I saw the Iron Man fighting some crazy poisonous girl, I'd go off running, too.

* * *

"So that's how she wants to play," Tony murmured from inside the shop, picking himself up from the rubble and shards of glass. The girl Roslyn was more powerful than he expected. Whatever poison was inside her had caused severe damage to the Iron Man suit.

"Sir," Jarvis said after he landed roughly in the middle of a shop. "Whatever the girl just did practically destroyed the suit. There's fifteen percent power left."

_Fifteen percent_. No one had ever caused that much damage to the suit in a single blow. _Ever_. And if that wasn't enough, the way she had done it was astounding. He watched the anger tear through her eyes as she unleashed whatever poison was inside her. The thick black liquid had come out of the pores in her hands, reminding him of the repulsors in the Iron Man suit.

Tony came out of the shop through the broken glass, ignoring the perfectly good door next to him. His eyes searched for Rosie. And there she was, black hair rippling as she sprinted down the street. He didn't want to admit it, but he had been a bit taken aback when he saw her. When the poison took over, it changed her looks completely, morphing her into a spawn of some nightmare.

Tony raised his repulsors, system locking onto the fleeing Rosie. The suit shook with what little energy it had left, gathering all its power to fire a single blast that would no doubt kill the girl. The suit secured its target, and there was no way he could miss. All until a certain redhead agent knocked his arm away.

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Natasha said, anger laced into her words.

"She attacked me," Tony said. He sounded a bit like an accusing five-year-old. "I'm just retaliating." He raised his arm again. Natasha knocked it back down, irritation twisting her pretty features.

"Technically, you attacked her first," she said, glaring at him through the Iron Man mask. "And you need to stand down _right now_."

"Sorry, no can do. If we let her go now she'll blow up and destroy the whole city." His repulsors locked onto her again. Natasha pushed him backwards.

"Tony, stand down!" she said again, her voice a command. Tony ignored her completely this time. Her voice grew more urgent. "Tony, you need to listen to me on this one."

"You know," Tony said. "Pepper says that a lot, too. But usually when Pepper says it—well, it usually doesn't involve a self-destructing level seven—but when she tells me she's right about something, she usually is."

"Stark!" Natasha yelled. Then, when he ignored her, she did the truly unexpected. Natasha threw herself out before him, creating a sort of human shield between him and Rosie. Natasha knew she looked completely insane right now, but Fury had told her to bring the girl back alive, not matter what the cost.

Tony pushed her out of the way. His repulsors were firmly locked on Rosie for what he was determined to be the final time. Natasha watched him with a horrified look, a look rarely anyone saw on the hardened agent. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. She had her orders, and Fury specifically told her not to slip the information to Stark until exactly the right time. But if she let him do this, not only would she face Fury's wrath for letting the girl die, she'd be a bystander witnessing Tony make one of the worst mistakes of his life. She couldn't let him go through with this.

"Stark!" Natasha shouted. It wasn't the sound of his name that got his attention, but the absolute desperation in her voice. Then she said three simple words, and those three words would permanently change his life, as well as everyone else's, along with giving him a rather severe panic attack.

"_She's your daughter_."

**MWAHAHAHAHAHA! I FEEL SO DELICIOUSLY EVIL! Betcha didn't see that one coming! Is it too weird, though? That she's his daughter? Oh, well. Sorry, I'm not changing it! Ahh, I love plot twists. And there will be many, many, ****_many _****more, so if you don't like plot twists this is ****_not_**** the story for you! And if you ****_do_**** like plot twists, I LOVE YOU and keep reading because hopefully you will love me and my crazy plot twists, too! I really hope I wrote this well enough, considering I did it in my physics and history class and then finished it at like two at night… It was so perfect in my head, it was like a little movie! But when I tried to put it on paper I was sitting at my computer like, "Uh… more words…" So, yes, Rosie is the daughter of Tony Stark *crazy evil laugh* and all of the back story behind that will be explained in two chapters, which I'll try to have up as soon as possible. AND I GIVE CANDY TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEW/FAVORITE/FOLLOW SO HERE IS CANDY! *throws mountain of candy to everyone* Enjoy and until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**And in response to the reviews… Or I should say review…**

**ninjaonfire— (THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING I LOVE YOU.) Now that that's out of the way… Yes, her power is so intricate and weird that I can't even begin to describe it! Well, I can, but you'll have to keep reading to see what happens! And I tried to pinpoint Steve as best I could, because I felt like he would stand up to Fury for treating anyone like that, let alone a girl like Rosie, who's clearly scared but trying not to show it. And as for Steve and Rosie, I'm not saying ANYTHING! Lol maybe he'll be the one to get through to her, maybe not! We shall see!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Rosie:**

I didn't look back for the Iron Man. Not once. That was becoming a habit of mine today, not looking back. A small part of me wanted to, though. I was scared that I killed him, like I did to the agent back at S.H.I.E.L.D. tower. I chose to ignore my conscience, which was yelling at me in rather colorful words to turn back and give myself in.

_Not a fucking chance._

I'd rather die than go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Only the Lord knew what kind of tests they would conduct on me to try and cure the poison. Or what did that demon-thing call it? The darkness. That didn't sound too pleasant.

I drove the thought aside, weaving in between taxi cars and honking horns, not stopping for so much as a second to give the yelling people a sideways glance. The must not have heard the news yet of the fight between the level seven and the Iron Man, because these people were still secured in their cars and chattering away into their phones. Little did they know that only a few blocks away there was a pissed off Iron Man and another possibly dead agent. Never mind that. They weren't my priority right now. My only priority, the only thought that kept replaying like a mantra was _keep moving_.

_Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving_.

I squeezed between narrowly between two trucks at a red light, somewhat thankful at the moment for my teeny frame. I pushed my stubby legs into a run again. Or, at least I would've, if I hadn't run into a wall of pure muscle.

_Shit._

"Captain America," I said, my voice practically a growl, glaring up at the soldier who towered over me clad in rough blue material, a single silver star shimmering on his chest. People stopped what they were doing, and began to murmur to one another.

"What's Captain America doing here?"

"Beats me…"

"What's going on?"

"Who's that girl he's talking to?"

He didn't take his eyes off me as he waved away bystanders. "Get inside," he said. "Find somewhere safe."

The people's hushed whispers rose higher, some of them even shouting to each other as they began to scatter into different buildings. Good—they heeded his advice. I paid no mind to the scrambling people, my dark eyes set on my new opponent. The super soldier looked at me with what could be described as a pained expression. I smirked. I had the upper hand. He didn't want to hit me, let alone fight me. I was a girl, and to harm me would go against all his 1940s morals. His eyes were torn, between choosing his morals or his orders.

"Stand down, Rosie," he said, his voice more powerful than I'd expected. "I don't want to hurt you."

I made a mock pout. "That's too bad," I said. "Because I'm not giving in without a fight."

I went in to attack, but was met roughly by his red, white, and blue shield. He knocked me down, and pain throbbed up the side of my head as I hit the rocky pavement. Someone screamed, and rushed footsteps hurried away from me. I felt a warm liquid ooze down the side of my face—blood. Looks like he chose his orders over his morals.

I was on my feet again in a fluid movement, glaring daggers at the blue-eyed soldier. I wiped away the blood that was streaming down my face, dripping down my chin. "I thought Fury told you not to underestimate me."

The Captain didn't raise so much as an eyebrow. "I don't."

"We'll see about that."

I lunged at him, and he went to crack me in the head with his shield again. I saw his attack coming from a mile away, and in a flash of black hair, I was on the ground, kicking his legs out from under him. His muscular body toppled to the ground, and he let out a loud, "Oof!"

I didn't know what I was doing anymore. It was like something was controlling me, willing me to do things without my consent. I was a puppet, being commanded by some unseen puppeteer. My own brain no longer controlled my actions. I was hovering over the super solider, and before I knew what I was doing, my hands were balled into tight fists. The Captain's eyes widened, and I brought my fist down to his head. My hand cracked against the gravel; he'd moved his head out of the way just in time.

I went for another blow to his head, and missed him completely as he turned the tables on me, his strong arm placed a well-aimed blow to my stomach. With a cry, I rolled off him, but I was lucky enough to keep my balance this time. I stumbled backwards, ducking just in time as he flung his shield at my head. It crashed into a building behind me, becoming firmly lodged in the brick.

I smirked, turning back to him. "My turn."

With a flick of my wrist, the darkness was upon him, surging into his body. He cried out, doubling over. It wasn't enough poison to kill him, or severely injure him, but just enough to keep him distracted. With a kick to his chest, I sent the solider backwards, his body crashing into a car. But even in pain, he was a strong fighter. I went to rake my nails down his face, but he caught my arm, spinning me around, my back firmly against his chest, his arm around my neck in a chokehold.

_He was going to break my neck_.

My life began to flash before my eyes.

"So it ends like this, huh?" My words were no more than a gasp. "It's you that gets the honor of killing me?" I panted, trying to claw his arm away from my neck. I gave a low, strangled laugh, though there was nothing funny about the situation. Then again, why not laugh in the face of death? "Funny," I breathed. "I didn't think you had it in you…"

Steve was just as out of breath as I was. "I'm not going to kill you, Rosie."

"Pity," I said. "I was almost looking forward to dying in your arms."

I elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. I spun out of his grip. This was it. The final moments of our deadly tango. Only one of us could come out alive. It was him or me now, and I was ready. I felt the darkness boiling inside me, and I was ready to release it.

"Ah!" A sharp cry ripped from my throat, and I was left stumbling as a knife sliced through my calf. Pain knotted up my leg. I looked down. It was no knife, but an arrow, embedded firmly into the flesh of my calf. A vivid red liquid was lodged in the center of the arrow, emptying itself into my body.

_A tranquilizer arrow._

I yanked the arrow out of my leg. I was all but a second too late. The tiny glass vial that held the red liquid only moments ago was now empty. I allowed the metal arrow to drop from my hands, landing on the ground with a metallic _ping_. I staggered, my vision becoming blurry, my legs becoming weak. That tranquilizer was quick as hell. All energy was being drained from me at a rapid pace. My eyes locked with Steve's. I didn't even have the energy left to glare at him.

"_Cheater_…" I managed to whisper. My legs gave out, and I fell. The solider caught me in his arms just before I could crash onto the rocky pavement. I wanted to push myself away from him, but my vision went black, and I couldn't tell which way was up and which way was down. So I settled in his arms, just as someone's footsteps landed behind me.

"Got her?" I heard someone ask.

"Clint, what did you do to her?" Steve asked. His chest rumbled when he spoke.

"Simple tranquilizer," Clint said. "Should hold her for a few hours. C'mon. We need to get back. Fury's waiting, and from what Natasha tells me, he's pissed."

_Well, why wouldn't he be? I escaped his inescapable room and ran around New York like a maniac. Why wouldn't he be pissed?_

Clint's footsteps came closer. "Plus, I think we've terrorized these people enough for one day."

"I think you're right," Steve replied.

I felt Steve pick me up into his arms, holding my body tightly against his, and it wasn't in a protective way. They were taking me back to the tower, back to S.H.I.E.L.D., back to Fury. I wanted to fight them until every bone in my body was broken, run until my legs gave out, scream until my lungs collapsed. But I could do nothing.

So I let sleep take me, and settled deeper into the soldier's arms. I never thought New York would be quite like this.

**Wow. I have no words for this. If this was really crappy, I apologize. The ending was kind of tricky to write. Anyway, Rosie and Steve fighting! Like the golden boy vs. the cursed girl, right? But I kind of feel bad for Steve. I mean, Rosie fights dirty! Anyway, the next chapter will explain A LOT about Rosie being Tony Stark's daughter, aka MY EPIC PLOT TWIST. Sorry, still not over the fact that I did that! Anyway, thanks to all those who follow/favorite/review because I LOVE YOU ALL! Seriously, I LOVEEE getting reviews (that's like what keeps me going) so totally leave me one! Love y'all and until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to the reviews…**

**ladymoonscar—YESSSSSSSS. SHE'S HIS DAUGHTER! PLOT TWIST COMPLETE. Also, love your name by the way!**

**Guest—Right! I didn't put any warning into that whatsoever! And thank you, I thought I'd be pretty sick to end it on a cliffhanger like that!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Rosie:**

When I awoke, every muscle in my body ached. My brain throbbed inside my skull, pounding a violent migraine into action. I groaned, sitting up slowly. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open. They felt heavy, like someone had attacked hundred pound weights to my eyelids.

I looked around groggily. I was surrounded by glass. Four walls of thick pristine glass. Fear coursed through me.

_No_.

I bolted upwards to my feet, causing my leg to cry out in pain. Rolls of heavy bandages were wrapped over my jeans and around my calf, exactly where the arrow had punctured my flesh.

"You can take that off now," I heard a voice say. "It's probably healed."

I looked up to see Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, the two of them on the opposite side of the glass. Tony was standing tall, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes watching me intently. There was a gash that sliced across his cheek. Steve was in the corner, leaning against the wall. He looked lost in thought. There was one other man I didn't know who was with them, with dark hair and a bag of arrows slung over his shoulder, lounging comfortably on the floor. I realized quickly that his must be Clint, the archer, the one who shot me. I glared at him.

"So I guess it's back to the drawing board, huh?" I said, my eyes challenging all three of them. "What makes you think I can't escape this one?"

"Because this is the same prison that held Loki," Tony said, stalking towards me to stand only a few mere feet away from the glass. "And he barely managed to escape it. Plus, we're on a Helicarrier. So even if you did, by some miracle, escape—which you can't—you have nowhere to go except back here."

I tried to fight back my frustration. No escape meant I was here forever. "Where's Fury?" I asked. The last thing I wanted was him taking me by surprise. I might be a prisoner, but I wanted to know where that mad man was at all times.

"In a meeting with the press and the government," Tony said flatly. "Fixing all the trouble you caused in New York."

I felt my face twist into a snarl. Tony scowled right back, every muscle in his body tensing. That was when I noticed the bright yellow bandage wrapped around his arm. How much damage had I caused him?

"What's that for?" I asked, curious but not concerned.

"Blood test," Tony said, his eyes still glaring into mine. "Are you trying to pull a prank or something?"

I scoffed. "Yes," I said. "That's exactly what I'm doing. This is all a very big, very elaborately detailed prank. Do you like it? I've sent the entire city of New York into a frenzy, and purposefully caught the eye of S.H.I.E.L.D. just to get locked in this glass prison. Funny, isn't it. Ha ha, ha ha." My mock laughter echoed through my room, my voice dripping sarcasm.

Steve gave a low chuckle from the corner. "She has your personality…" I heard him murmur.

"Shuddup, Spangles," Tony snapped, his dark eyes then turning back to me. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Natasha told me your little secret."

I raised my eyebrows. "So you know?"

"Do I know that you're my daughter? Yes. The blood test confirmed that," Tony said, a strong amount of dislike in his voice eminent. "Do I believe it? Of course not."

Pain washed through me. I could've collapsed right there, but I locked my legs in place. Any other kind of pain I could take, but this was unbearable. It wasn't physical pain, but mental, and it stung me to the bone. I'm not going to lie, I'd caught myself several times in the past imagining what it would be like to tell Tony he was my father. I hadn't expected him to greet me with open arms, but the man was so cold, glaring at me in an almost accusing way. I knew I was a monster, but I'm still his kid. Wasn't it just one of those things where you're supposed to instantly love them, no matter what?

"What?" I asked, not attempting to mask the pain in my tone. I saw Steve's eyes fill with hurt, and I even thought I saw a glimmer of compassion in Clint's. But Tony, however, remained firm, his face strictly set in a cold, hardened mask. So much for instant love.

"I don't believe you're my daughter," he repeated. "So what is it? Was this a dare? Or cash? Are you after cash?"

The hurt inside me was quickly replaced with anger. I was in disbelief about what I just heard. "You think I'm doing this for some damn _cash_?!" I screeched. "You think I'd stoop that low?!" My eyes flashed with rage, my blood boiling. Tony didn't take so much as a step back from the glass. Fool. "And you said the blood test confirmed it! How can you say you don't believe it?"

"Who's your mom, then?"

"Estelle Carter," I said, cringing inwardly as I said my dead mother's name. "Not that you'd remember."

Tony's brows furrowed in confusion, and I sighed, frustrated. His expression only confirmed my statement. He didn't remember who my mother was.

"It would've been near the end 1996 when you met her, if my math is correct," I said, deciding to elaborate. Perhaps going into details would jog his memory. "She was a college student, a history major. You know, lots of curly red hair, and really, really green eyes." I watched, satisfied, as Tony's face grew very pale. Red hair and green eyes hit a memory—good.

"She was on a tour of Rome, where you just so happened to be at the time. One thing led to another, I guess, and after your little pow-wow with my mother which you seem to remember so well," I said the words through my clenched teeth. "She got pregnant with me, at only nineteen. But I bet you didn't even know her age, did you? Not that you would've cared, really, because you got what you were after anyway. Well, because of you, she had to drop out of the college she worked her ass off to get into. Her parents disowned her for being pregnant out of wedlock, and she took up a low-paying waitressing job just to get by. And when I came along, she could barely afford to take care of me, let alone herself."

"She remarried," Tony said, though he swallowed hard before he spoke. "To Agent Roth Simon."

I nodded. "True. And let me tell you, he was a better dad than you could ever be."

That seem to hit him where it hurt, but he chose not to show it. "I didn't have much respect for anything back then."

I glared daggers into his head. "So that makes it all okay, then, right? Ignorance conquers all, and that's that?"

Tony opened his mouth, but no words came out. I expected either Steve or Clint to back him up, but they both just stared. Somewhere, a million miles away, a pin dropped. "I'm sorry," Tony managed after a while.

"You should be," I hissed. "It's your fault."

He didn't like that too much. When his eyes met mine again, I could no longer read him. The stiff, unsentimental mask had taken the place of his emotions. "Who else knew?" His voice was rigid once more.

"Fury knew," I said, remembering Fury's words from back at the hospital. "Fury knew from the moment he saw me."

_"You certainly have your father's fire," Fury didn't sound surprised. It was more like he was expecting it._

_ "Don't go there," I growled, anger swelling in every muscle in my body. "You said you've read my file, which means you know the truth."_

"It was in my file," I went on. "But he must've erased it before he let you see it," I jerked my head in the soldier's direction. "So what happens now?" I asked, my attention turning back to Tony. His eyes were narrowed, examining me with the slightest amount of shock. He was realizing how much I looked like my mother, with my bright orange-red hair and alabaster pale skin. He blinked a few times, but it was no use. It didn't matter which way he looked at me, I still had his chocolate brown eyes at the end of the day. Then he cleared his throat loudly.

"What happens now?" Tony repeated. "I'll tell you what happens now. You might be my daughter, but you're dangerous and you're lethal and I don't want you coming near me or anything I care about. You're going to stay in that glass cage, where you can't hurt anybody but yourself. As for me, I'm going to get some coffee and fix Mark IV, that you very so happily destroyed."

Before I could even say another word, Tony had turned on his heel, stalking out of the room. I felt numb. Words had never hurt so much.

**Rosie freaking tore into Tony, good Lord!** **But he was really nasty back, so I guess she kind of asked for it. I kind of feel really bad for Rosie, though! I mean, her parents die, she's chased around by the Avengers, and then her dad rejects her. I need to make this less depressing… I SHALL GIVE HER THE GIFT OF CHOCOLATE! Lol, anyway, thank you to all those who follow/favorite/review and keep up with this crazy ass story! Keep favoriting/following/reviewing, I really appreciate it! I LOVE YOU ALL! *pulls everyone into giant group hug* HUGGING! Pardon my craziness, haha... Oh, and I have a lot of events coming up in which I will be away from my computer, but I promise I'll post the next chapters as soon as I can! Until next time! Love y'all!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**Lady Rocelyn—Thank you so much! It was really hard to try and write the beginning chapters because I had to leave like really subtle hints but not too much that it would give it away!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I HAVE RETURNED WITH THE SPOILS FROM THE NEW COUNTRY! Just kidding, I didn't go to a new country but I wish I did... I just went to a dance and now all I want to do is sleep but I got this chapter up for y'all anyway because I love you!**

**Chapter Ten**

**Rosie:**

I watched as the doors closed behind Tony. There were no words for how I felt. He'd cut me open, tore my heart out, set it on fire, and stomped on it. How could he bring himself to say those things? That I wasn't going near him or anything he cared about? I mean, I knew I was a monster, but I was still his child!

I must've been showing pain in my eyes or my expression, because Steve shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Hey," he said softly from the corner. "I'm sorry."

My head snapped to his direction. _Did he just_…

"Are you… Are you apologizing to me?" I asked, astonished. Steve gave what could be considered a nod. I raised an eyebrow, startled. "Why?"

"For fighting you back in New York," he said. "I didn't want to, you know."

"But you did anyway."

"Technically, you attacked him first," Clint said. I snapped my gaze to his, glaring at him.

"I did," I said. "Which means _you _didn't have to get involved."

Steve mashed his lips together awkwardly, and Clint simply glared right back at me. There was a deadly silence between us. I rolled my eyes, turning my gaze back to them.

"Can you both just leave me alone?" I said, my orange hair swooshing behind me. It was nice to have orange hair again. "My father just told me he doesn't want or care about me, so I'd rather not I feel like an animal in a zoo right now."

"Nice try," I heard Clint say. "But Fury told us not to leave you alone. Not after your outbreak back at S.H.I.E.L.D. tower."

I glanced over my shoulder. "I thought you said I couldn't escape from this?" I tossed the words over my shoulder at him. Clint rose to his feet.

"I never said that," he said calmly. "Tony did. And you can't escape it, but Fury's not taking chances. Not with you. Not with a level seven."

_Dammit_. Fury had all the loopholes covered. I didn't want to admit it, but the man was good. He knew what he was doing… Most of the time. I lowered myself back onto the floor, which was surprisingly warm. My hands went to my leg, unwrapping the bandages from my calf. Whoever had spoken before was right—my wound had healed.

"How did you get that?" Steve asked, striding towards the glass. I kept my eyes focused firmly on my leg, like I was checking to make sure the wound was healed.

"Your buddy shot me, remember?" I said. I couldn't bring myself to look up at him. The light was dim, no doubt cloaking his face in a perfect glow. I wished he wasn't so handsome. When I looked at him, I had to constantly remind myself that he was the enemy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Steve shaking his head. "That's not what I meant," he said. "I meant the… Stuff inside you. How did that happen, if you don't mind my asking, that is," he added quickly.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders lazily. "I don't know for sure. I really can't remember a lot from that night. It's kind of all a blur, ya know?" I blew the hair out of my eyes. "All I know is that when my parents were killed, I wasn't like this. But afterwards, I had this stuff inside me."

"What happened that night?" he asked. His voice wasn't prying or aggressive, like Fury's, but instead soothing and compassionate. I wasn't falling for it. I flipped my hair out of my eyes again. I doubt I could find a hair tie in this place.

"That night was a result of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I looked up at him, and immediately wished I hadn't. I was right before when I thought that the dim light would only make his handsome features even more perfect. He looked like some sort of fallen angel with his golden hair swept back, several strands falling into his eyes. There was a small cut on his forehead no bigger than a paper cut, and his uniform dirty and wrinkled after our battle. I stared up at him, and he stared back, silence flowing fluidly between us. We were communicating soundlessly, expressing ourselves with only the looks in our eyes.

"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes not leaving his. All of my rage was gone. I was just a girl now, an innocent, broken little girl, who just wanted answers.

"I couldn't," he said, his words just as low and delicate as mine had been.

"Why?" I asked. "I could've killed you. I probably would've killed you, actually, if he hadn't intervened," I told him honestly, motioning to Clint with a jerk of my head. The solider shook his head.

"No. You wouldn't have."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You and I," the solider said. "We're a lot alike, Roslyn."

"It's Rosie," I said, cocking my head to the side. "How so?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair, giving a deep sigh. "Well, we're both experiments."

I gave a light scoff at that. "Wrong," I said. "You were created for the greater good of mankind, to stop things like me from happening. As far as we all now, I'm a ticking time-bomb ready to go of if I let my emotions out of hand." I paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm a PMS-ing Hulk." I heard Clint chuckle.

"Actually," Steve said, smiling at my Hulk comment. "I was created to stop a war."

"And I was probably created to start one," I replied, not missing a beat. "Face it, Captain. Your argument is invalid. We're from different worlds."

"It's Steve, ma'am," Steve said in a tone that was rather respectful. "And our worlds couldn't be more similar."

I sat back, stretching my legs in front of me, resting my weight on my elbows. "Please, do tell."

"I know what you're feeling, Rosie," Steve said, his face mere centimeters from the glass that separated us. "Because I felt it, too, when I went through my transformation. You feel so strong, but you're still left wondering why you feel so weak. It's like you have all this limitless power, but you can't use it because if you do, you might use it the wrong way, and you could end up hurting a lot of innocent people. You don't understand yourself yet, and you feel like if you try, you'll only end up being afraid and that's the last thing you want." He swallowed hard. "You just feel…" He paused as his voice trailed, searching for the right word.

"_Broken_," we said the word together. My eyes locked with his, the both of us somewhat startled. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth from dropping open. He knew. He was reading me like an open book. Everything he said, pinpointed exactly what I was going through. I stared up at him, completely in awe. Then I mentally shook myself.

_What are you doing, Rosie?_ _This is probably one of Fury's plans_.

"I don't need a sympathy speech," I said coolly. "But thanks anyway."

Steve just shook his head, turning on his heel. "You don't have to act with me, Rosie," he said, his legs carrying him further and further away. "Fury didn't put me up to this."

_Wait, what?_

I sat up, my eyes watching him closely as he pushed open the door. "Then why are you being so nice to me?" I asked. "I mean, we practically just had a death match a couple hours ago."

Steve looked back at me, then did the truly unexpected. He smiled. "It wasn't a death match, Rosie," he said. "I wouldn't be able to kill you, even if Fury told me to."

Before I could open my lips to say anything else, he answered the question I was about to ask. "Because you remind me of a girl I used to know."

* * *

Fury wiped the thin layer of sweat that was forming on his brow, sinking back deeply into his chair. He'd just finished a very difficult meeting with the government, one that required a dozen too many screens on the Helicarrier to be occupied. The government officials were furious with him about the fact that a level seven had escaped from right under his nose.

"If a level seven can escape, then it should be no problem for a dozen level fives," one senator had said. "Soon we'll have hundreds of your prisoners running through the streets!"

Fury brought his hand up to his head, soothing his temples, trying to rid himself of their words that were still echoing through his brain. The press was already showing footage of Rosie and the Iron Man, then Rosie and the Captain. They were dying to know who she was, and what else she was capable of. They were close to sending everyone into a frenzy with talk of another alien invasion.

Fury ceased nursing his oncoming headache as Steve came out of the prison chamber. "What are you so happy about?" Fury asked, clearly irritated by the large smile plastered on the soldier's face.

Steve only smiled brighter, making Fury's scowl deeper. "I tried a different approach," Steve said. Fury's ears perked.

"Rogers," he said in a low growl. "What did you do?"

Steve didn't stop his rapid pace, but continued walking right past the other man. "I told you to just try talking to her, Fury," Steve said over his shoulder. "For everything she is, she's just a regular girl."

**Okay, first of all, I can't believe I got to chapter ten! I usually don't make it this far into stories this is to exciting! Moving on... So this chapter was supposed to be very loosely based off of a song called Just A Little Girl by Trading Yesterday. (Awesome song, go check it out!) But when I have writer's block I put my iPod on shuffle and it helps me figure out how the chapter should go based on the song. It's a weird technique I use, but hey, it works! On a different note, I'm seriously loving the Steve/Rosie conversation here! You kind of get a glimpse of how she's just really scared of what she's capable of. I mean, I'd be pretty scared, too! But I, for one, quite liked how they could relate to each other... Hmm... maybe I'll make something out of that! If you liked the StevexRosie stuff going on _totally_ let me know. I'm not sure where I'll go with their relationship… maybe it'll be romantic or maybe he'll just be like a big brother to her! Keep reading and you'll find out! And special thanks to all those who favorite/follow/review Dancing In the Darkness! I seriously love you all and here! Have pie! *throws pie out to all of you* I love pie… Anyways, love y'all! Keep favoriting/following/reviewing and until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**Ninjaonfire—Yes, she knew Tony was her dad all along! I was sitting there wondering if it would be too much of a plot twist and then I just said, "Fuck it! More plot twists!" And I'm happy you liked the throwback to Rosie and Fury's first conversation because there's going to be a lot more of those! I wanted Fury to be like super up-in-her-business and know almost everything about her and then throw back to it in later chapters! And I totally agree, Rosie needs to calm the hell down! All fiery and such and not giving anyone answers, she's frustrating! I think maybe she just needs some chocolate… and maybe a hug from Steve *wink wink***


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Rosie:**

_I was on a subway, rocketing through the undergrounds of Los Angeles. I always hated the subway. It was dark, and there were just too many people. And, I didn't want to admit to anyone but myself, but I was a little bit claustrophobic. People crowded and jostled against each other, all of us crammed into the tiny vicinity of the car. I was standing, rocking as the subway car swayed, my hands gripping the steel pole to hold myself in place. Others sat, but some were standing as well. There were a handful of children clinging to their mother's hands, and a blue-eyed toddler stared at me innocently._

_ "Rosie Simon," said a smooth, masculine voice. I looked up from the blue-eyed child, meeting the startlingly bright eyes of a man. He was tall, blonde, and sophistication reeked from him. The blue suit he wore was clearly expensive, tailored to perfection to fit his body. He was handsome for his age, which I was guessing was around late thirties, maybe early forties._

_ My brows furrowed. "Who are you?"_

_ His lips curled into a smile that made my insides twitch uncomfortably. "I can't tell you that, Rosie," he said through a mouthful of white, even teeth. "It's so much more entertaining when you have no recollection of me."_

_ No recollection? What was he talking about? "What are you talking about?" I asked, taking a step towards him as the subway car raced through the tunnel, rocking back and forth. The man reached out, taking my hand in his. They were warm, soft, but the feeling of his flesh on mine made my stomach tumble._

_ "You know who I am, Rosie," he said, lifting my lips to his and placing a gentle kiss on my hand._

_"Well, aren't you cryptic."_

_I thought he was going to laugh—or chuckle, rather, because men like him don't laugh. But there was no amusement in his eyes. Instead he looked at me knowingly. Before I could react, he pulled me startlingly close, his arm wrapping around my waist tight enough to bruise. I let out a surprised yelp, crushed against his body. He was so much stronger than he looked. He leaned forward, his lips at my ear._

_"You still have that same fire about you," he mused, inhaling the scent of my hair. I squirmed in his grasp. Who the hell did this man think he was? "You put up such a fight that night…"_

_His words sent chills racing up my spine. "Who are you?"_

_"I was there the night of the murders."_

_ Shock rolled through me. "I know what you're capable of, Roslyn," he continued, his voice dark. "That's why I chose you."_

_ "You—You're him," I stuttered. "The fourth man."_

_ His lips curled into a smile that put all of my senses on edge, but not quite the same edge as before. I wasn't uncomfortable anymore; I was pissed, twisting my features into a scowl. "You were the one who attacked me," I said._

_ "You catch on fast, don't you?"_

_ "Go to hell," I spat. I could already feel the anger boiling inside me. The man chuckled, pulling me closer._

_ "There's that fire," he said, almost triumphantly. "That's why I chose you. You're strong. You're independent. You're stubborn." His hand reached up to stroke my cheek. "You were a perfect vessel to carry the darkness."_

_ He knew. He knew it was called the darkness. The only other person who had called it that was the demon from the interrogation room. Could they be in accord with one another?_

_ But my mind wasn't in the proper state to answer those kinds of questions. The rage was growing at a rapid pace now, swelling inside of me. The subway car jolted violently, and the blue-eyed toddler clung to his mother. The lights above me began to flicker. People turned to each other, murmuring. The car screeched and jerked again, sending several people flying._

_ "You're more powerful than you know, Rosie," he said, gripping my wrist tightly, the flickering lights barely illuminating his handsome features. "Don't you see? I'm the only one who can truly understand you. I _created _you."_

_ The lights stopped flickering, and glowed harshly bright instead. His eyes left mine, sweeping around the car. "Look around you."_

_ I followed his gaze. A strangled gasp flew from my throat. We were still in the subway car, but all that was left of it was a few tangled metal chunks. Everything was raven-black, streaked with black ash. Bodies littered the ground, stained in blood. My eyes fell to the blue-eyed toddler. He was motionless, sprawled on top of his mother. His skin was purple, like the other corpses, dark blood tricking from his eyes. I did this. I'd killed them. All of them. I looked back at the man in horror. His expression was unfazed, proud if anything._

_ "Chaos is our gift," he said through sick satisfaction. "You and I, we're one in the same."_

_ "We are not the same," I growled to the man, my parents' murderer. "I don't kill innocent people."_

_ He raised his eyebrow, taking my words as a challenge. Before I could react, he released his unbearably tight grip on me, throwing me to the ground. I let out a broken shriek. "You can't lie to me, Roslyn," he said in a low, dangerous voice. I watched in horror as his face began to morph, exactly like mine did when I became angry. He was like me. I scrambled backwards, no sound coming from my screaming. And, if his metamorphosis wasn't frightening enough, his next words certainly were: "You're mine."_

I sprang up. A river of sweat poured down my forehead, and my lungs sucked in air more rapidly than they should be. I pushed my matted hair away from my eyes, taking in my surroundings. I was still inside the glass prison. I wasn't in a subway, and there weren't horrifying corpses surrounding me. _It was just a dream_, I told myself. _Nothing but a dream_.

I realized that I must've dozed off after Steve left. I remembered laying down, feeling drained after the dizzying conversations between the two men, my father and the super solider. Even thinking about our conversations now made my head hurt. They both did the opposite of what I'd expected them to do. I thought Tony might accept me as his daughter, at least claim responsibility, but he pushed me away like I was a piece of dirt. And Steve, who I thought would kill me instantly, was offering me help, almost sympathizing with me.

I sighed, laying back down, staring up at the ceiling with lazy eyes. I was sure that it had been only a few hours, but it felt like days. Agents flowed in and out, looking at me with distant eyes and scribbling things down on notepads. I felt like an animal in a zoo.

"How you holding up?" I heard Bruce Banner ask from the corner. The Avengers were taking turns on babysitting duty, and it was Bruce's hour.

"You know, you don't have to be nice to me," I said. My tone was flat. I was tired. I had no real energy left, though I'd just slept. This was a different kind of tired—I felt emotionally drained, and no amount of sleep could change that.

"I know," Bruce said, his eyes looking up from his book, _The 1984_. "But I get it, you know."

I sat up slowly, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?"

Of all the Avengers that had babysat me for these last hours, I liked Bruce the best. Clint gave me an awkward mix of compassion and violence, like he felt sorry for me that my father rejected me, but still wouldn't hesitate to kill me if I looked at him the wrong way. The redhead Natasha, on the other hand, attempted a full-on interrogation, questioning me about my past _and_ my newfound abilities. Steve wasn't on duty yet, and Tony wouldn't even dream of it. But Bruce, he just came in, pulled up a chair, and firmly buried himself into his book. He wasn't ignoring me, but rather giving me my space. From what I gathered, he at least acknowledged that I was a person, a human being, who needed time to settle down and come to grips with what my life now was.

Bruce closed his book and removed his glasses from the edge of his nose, wiping them clean with the fabric of his shirt. "I mean, we both have demons inside of us, ready to burst at any moment if we let out emotions get out of hand," he said.

His words were simple, and he gave me a small, warm smile as the comment rolled from his tongue. I stared at him. He was right. We were more alike than I'd originally realized. When we became enraged, we both had to face the devils embedded in our souls. His was a green monster, mine the incarnation of nightmares. Of all the Avengers, he understood what it was like to not be able to control a dark force inside you that threatened to burst at any moment. But it was more than that. He knew the deadly feelings that came along with it—when you lose control to the point where your actions are no longer controlled by your own thoughts. When you become capable of anything, strength and power flowing through your body so rapidly that no force could stop you, not ever. But there was a much heavier baggage that came with the strength and power—fear. Not knowing how to stop, if you even could. My eyes were locked with Bruce's.

There were so many things I wanted to say. I felt so broken, so alone, and here was someone who fully understood. I could barely bring myself to words. "Yeah. We do have demons, don't we?" I said lamely.

But the doctor smiled warmly, seeming to know what I really was saying: _Thank you for understanding._

* * *

"You have a ridiculous amount of explaining to do," Pepper Potts said, her image pulled up on a screen before Tony Stark. He was alone in a sealed room, the Iron Man suit spread out before him. He'd been in here for hours. He'd locked himself securely inside one of the Helicarrier's rooms after his little chat with Rosie, submerging himself in tinkering with something. Anything. He had to get his mind off of the entire idea of Rosie Simon. He still couldn't believe she was his daughter. He nearly had another panic attack each time the red-head girl crossed his mind. He couldn't deny it—she was definitely his. Not only did the blood test confirm it, but she repeated back to him exactly what happened with Estelle Carter back in 1996. And as if that wasn't enough, she was practically the spitting image of his former lover, right down to her tiny frame and red hair. All except for the eyes, though. The eyes were definitely his.

"It's not like I knew Fury was going to drag me into this," Tony said, furiously working on repairing Mark IV. "I was there to do an interrogation, and she escaped. It's not like I could sit back and let her destroy New York City."

"You mean it's not like you could let her destroy New York City on her own," Pepper remarked. "I watched the news. You two nearly destroyed an entire block."

"The three of us nearly destroyed an entire block," Tony corrected. "Spangles helped with that." His eyes glued firmly to Mark IV, wrench working fluidly to fix the suit. Tony still couldn't bring himself to look at Pepper for more than ten seconds. He was keeping Rosie a secret from her. He couldn't let her know that he had a daughter—not yet. It wasn't one of those things you could just spring on someone, even if you did have many affairs in the past like Tony had.

"_Steve_," Pepper said, hating when Tony called Steve by those humiliating nicknames. "Didn't even cause half the damage you did. You knew fighting her would only cause a panic attack, we discussed things like this! And you promised that there would be nothing strenuous until you were over the _Incident_."

Yes, Pepper knew he had a panic attack during his fight with Rosie. He just hadn't told her why. "She's a level seven," Tony said, snatching the screwdriver beside him, working furiously to fix the broken suit in the least amount of time possible. "And we both know that Spangles wouldn't be able to take her on alone."

"Steve is an adult," Pepper said. "As well as your colleague. You should have more faith in him."

"Not when it comes to a level seven."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pepper's brows furrow on the screen. "Level seven?"

Tony sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system ranks it's threats on a scale," Tony said. "One to seven. Seven's the most dangerous."

"Is she still on the carrier?" Pepper asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes, but she's contained," Tony assured her. "No way she can get out."

Pepper smiled at Tony, and opened her red lipstick mouth to say something, but she didn't get the chance. Behind Tony, the doors opened, revealing Steve Rogers.

"Fury wants to see you," the super solider said. "It's about your daughter."

_No._ Shock and fear suddenly overrode his body. Tony shot his hand out to end the call between him and Pepper—but it was too late. Pepper had already heard.

"_Daughter_?!" Pepper yelled as Tony closed the screen.

_She knew_. _God, now she knew_.

What was she going to do? What was _he_ going to do? He would have to explain himself, but there was no easy way to tell this kind of thing to anyone, let alone the love of his life. Tony ran his hand through his hair, desperate to not have another panic attack. But his worst fear was already flowing through his mind. What if she left him? If she did, he didn't know what he would do. Furious, Tony rounded on the solider, who stood there, shocked, realizing what he had just done.

"Screw up one more thing for me, Rogers, _one more thing_," he waved the wrench menacingly. "And I promise I'll use your head as target practice for Mark IV."

Tony threw the tool onto the table, where it landed with a crash. The angry man stalked past the soldier, jostling against him threateningly as he exited the room. Steve just stood there for a moment. He'd never heard anyone sound so threatening, so angry. Now he knew how Rosie truly felt.

**I didn't really know how to end this one, but I tried my best so I get an A for effort! My apologies if it was kind of sucky, I'm still recovering from that dance I went to! So how about the fact that Steve screwed up and now Pepper knows about Tony's love child? I love Steve, he's so cute, but I do think he'd pull something like that! So I've been going on a writing frenzy lately, and I'm almost up to chapter twenty in this story but I'm not posting them yet because I'm gonna make you all wait for it! MWAHAHA! Seriously, though, I think it's a problem. I go crazy with writing a story until a new one takes over. But I promise I will finish this story, I'm already way too committed! Great big thanks to all those who favorite/follow/review, and if you want to do any or all of the three I would appreciate it so much and I'd love you forever and ever and ever! Okay, I love y'all, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**GagetCid—Yeah, the first chapter is very short, which I kind of regret, but I'm horrible at starting stories!**

**Thatcrazyginger—I'm really happy you liked the Steve/Rosie part! And I'm debating between Bruce and Steve of who will be the big brother figure and who will be the love interest. Don't want to give much away, though! And who doesn't love Steve? I mean, he's just so chivalrous and cute (and those abs though…) And as for the Peggy Carter bit… I'm not saying anything! Actually, yes, I will. No, just kidding, I won't! You'll have to keep reading to find out whether Rosie Simon (aka Rosie Carter) is related to Peggy Carter or not! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**More chapters! Yayyyyy!**

**Rosie:**

"You're kidding me!" I said loudly, in total shock, my mouth practically agape. "_Never_?!"

"Never," Bruce smiled, seated with his legs crossed on the other side of the glass. I pouted, and slowly put down my pinky finger. I had only eight fingers left.

"Your turn," Bruce said.

"Fine," I sighed. "Never have I ever had to wear glasses."

"Hey!" said Bruce. "That's cheating!"

"You said never have I ever been afraid of spiders after I admitted to you that I had arachnophobia!" I said rather childishly, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction. "Put a finger down!"

Bruce sighed, and curled his thumb inwards so only nine fingers remained. It was a start to victory. Yes, Bruce and I were playing Never Have I Ever. Our brief chat before had spiraled into a full-on conversation, ranging from topic to topic, covering everything from our favorite colors to what the best apocalypse would be. He said meteor, I said zombie. I didn't know how much time had passed, and I really didn't care. It felt weird to admit, but I was actually having fun with Bruce. Like, _real _fun, not that fake kind. He'd found a deck of cards not too long ago, and both of our faces fell when we were forced to once again realize that there was a giant wall of glass separating us. So we decided to play a different game, one that was much less mature than cards. We'd already created certain rules, like I couldn't say, "Never have I ever turned into a giant green rage monster," and he couldn't say, "Never have I ever been the daughter of Tony Stark." So far, to my disappointment, Bruce was winning.

"Never have I ever had red hair," Bruce said.

"Really?" I said, lowering my finger count to seven. "Maybe you should change that. I think you'd look rather dapper with red hair."

"Red? Wouldn't that seem a little, I don't know unprofessional?" he said. I shrugged.

"You're playing Never Have I Ever with a seventeen-year-old girl after we had a much too intricate discussion about the zombie apocalypse," I said. "I'm pretty sure that's as unprofessional as it gets."

"_What the hell is going on here_?" a deep voice bellowed from the doorway. I knew who it was instantly. Our eyes shot up to find none other than a fuming Nick Fury standing in the doorway, with Tony and Steve not too far behind.

"Never have I ever had an eye patch," I murmured to Bruce, who bit his lip and tried not to laugh as he lowered a finger.

"What in hell's name are you two doing?" Fury said, not to far from a shout. I shrugged.

"Playing a game." I turned back to Bruce. "You go."

"Banner, you were supposed to keep an eye on Miss Roslyn, not attempt to bond with her," Fury said angrily.

"It's alright, Fury," Bruce said calmly. "It's just a little game."

"Rule number one of dealing with a level seven," Fury said, taking long strides towards us. "Never, _ever_ play a game with one. Not even if the game is trivial." He eyed each of our hands, demeaning our game with his one eye.

I watched as Bruce rose from the ground, letting out a deep sigh. He gave me a small smile. "This isn't over," he said. The hint of a challenge twinkled in his eye.

"I'm going to win," I said, smiling back. And I was. Little did Bruce know that I was very competitive. Hell, I'd _cheat_ if I had to.

"Not a chance," he said. Bruce took several steps back then, allowing Fury to come up to the glass. I pulled myself to my feet, stretching my arms over my head. Every muscle in my body extended, some of them crying out with soreness. _I could go for a massage right about now_. I sighed deeply when my back cracked.

"What's up, Fury?" I said, flipping a couple red strands out of my eyes. "Back to check on the oh-so-lethal level seven?"

Fury raised an eyebrow. "You seem different. Calmer. Not as fiery."

I shrugged my shoulders lazily. "No one's attacking me at the moment," I said. "So I'm feeling pretty damn good."

"Really? And what about the anger?" he questioned. "The hatred that you usually have?"

"Only came back once that door opened. Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate everyone," I said, my tone calm. "Just you." I peered behind him, locking eyes with Tony. "I'm not too fond of you at the moment, either."

"The feeling's mutual," Tony growled. I rolled my eyes, suppressing the annoyance that I knew very well could turn into anger if someone said the wrong thing. I didn't want to turn into that monster again, especially not while I was locked in this prison. It was probably already programmed to kill me if I did get mad.

"I gathered that when you tried to disown me," I said, glaring daggers at Tony. "But I'm seventeen, therefore a minor, so you have to take care of me."

"Not true," Tony snarled.

"It's the law."

"I'll put you up for adoption."

"Yeah. You wish."

"Both of you, just _be quiet_," Fury hissed, his voice so stern that it nearly made me jump. This was scarier than when he yelled—I actually liked it better when he yelled.

"You," Fury turned to me. "You've been in here three days. Agents are going to come in here to give you food. It's reassuring to know that you're not angry—" I coughed, and Fury's eye narrowed. "It's reassuring to know you're not _that_ angry," he corrected. "Because if you were, these agents are under strict orders to use all forces necessary to restrain you." The warning look he shot me made everything clear—_screw around, and these people won't hesitate to kill you._

"We've also called in Thor," Fury informed me. I raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"We want to identify whatever is inside you," Fury said smoothly. "We figured that perhaps Thor would be able to help with that process."

My eyes ran over Fury, confused. Why was he being so nice to me? Well, I couldn't exactly chalk it up to nice, but he was being much less… _Cruel_. He and I were already like cats and dogs. I didn't like him, he didn't like me. But that didn't change the fact that he wasn't yelling, and he wasn't sending an intimidating glare in my direction every five seconds. I almost preferred it when he was being threatening. This side of him set my teeth on edge. My eyes swept from Bruce, then to Steve. Had one of them said something to him?

"Thor?" I repeated, glancing back to Fury for confirmation. "You mean the god of thunder?"

Fury nodded and the door swung open, several agents entering the room. All of them had guns strapped to them, clearly visible on their hips. They studied me with cold eyes. I knew they were deciphering me, pinpointing my weaknesses in case they had to use them against me. I fought myself from glaring at all of them. My anger and outbursts had gotten me nowhere so far. Perhaps, a new approach—all I had to do was cooperate with them, and they'd leave me be.

_Cooperate, and earn your freedom_.

An agent slowly approached Fury. She looked almost… Concerned, like she had urgent but distressing news. She leaned forward, whispering something into Fury's ear. Fury's eyes widened, but he nodded, murmuring something back to the agent that I didn't get the pleasure of hearing.

"By the way, Stark," Fury said, rounding lazily on his heel to face my father. "Pepper's here."

* * *

Tony was racing as fast as his legs could carry him, so much that they almost hurt. Fury was close on his heels, black cloak whipping out behind him. Tony was, in his mind, screaming at himself as well as cursing out an imaginary Steve, mentally slapping the solider repeatedly in the face. Because of that solider slipping up—saying the wrong thing at the wrong time—Pepper now thought it was a good idea to come onto the Helicarrier. He should've _known_ she'd pull a stunt like this! He then mentally slapped himself for hanging up the phone on her. He should've stayed with her, talked to her, tried to convince her that this wasn't something to worry over. Of course, knowing Pepper, she'd probably worry over it anyway, considering she just received the news that his illegitimate child was a _level seven_.

Tony reached the very top level of the Helicarrier. Lines of fighter planes and helicopters were docked, filed in tight, neat rows. His eyes swept over the deck, searching for the head of red hair he loved so much. Not too far off in the distance, a helicopter was approaching, blades soaring through the sky loudly. Tony could already see her red hair whipping around inside the aerial vehicle. The closer the helicopter grew, the more it made Tony rock back and forth on his heels anxiously. He was reviewing what to say in his mind, but this time, nothing seemed like the right thing to say.

Once the loud machine landed, Tony was next to her in a second. A second later, he was nursing the red hand-shaped mark on his cheek. She'd slapped him.

"You couldn't even _tell me_?!" Pepper screamed over the dying hull of the engine. "You have a daughter and you didn't even think to _tell me_?!"

"I was going to, I swear! I didn't even know she existed until a few days ago!" Tony shouted back. Pepper scowled, stalking past him. So this wasn't the scenario he'd planned, but she was a lot more pissed than he ever expected. "How did you even get here so fast?!"

"Sorry, Tony!" James Rhodes, also known as Rhodey, shouted from inside the helicopter. _Well, that explained it_. "I didn't have much of a choice!"

"We're gonna have a chat later," Tony said before turning on his heel. Pepper!" Tony called, hurriedly following after the woman who was already inside the Helicarrier. "Pepper, honey…" Tony said, almost pleading with her as he chased her down the hallway.

"You kept this a secret from me, Tony," Pepper said angrily, storming through the halls of the Helicarrier, following the signs on the walls. The trained agents quickly moved aside for the fuming woman, sending Tony sympathetic glances as they did so. "We're supposed to be a team."

"We are a team, Pepper!" Tony said. "I just… I didn't know how to tell you—"

"Oh, you didn't know how to tell me?! How about, "Oh, hey honey, I fought a level seven today, almost killed her… Oh, and by the way, _she's my daughter_!" Pepper yelled, practically stomping down the hallway. "Pretty sure that would've sufficed, Tony!"

Tony looked around, desperate for any kind of help or backup. However, Fury had conveniently disappeared. _Fantastic_.

"I want to see her, Tony," Pepper said, what should have been a request sounding like a demand. A demand that he didn't have much of a say in. They came to the main room of the Helicarrier, where all the Avengers were sprawled about, minding their business. All except for Bruce, that is, who was probably back to playing his stupid game with Rosie.

Tony looked at Pepper, utterly shocked by what she just said. "Pepper, you can't be serious!" he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her to face him. "She practically destroyed New York City, you said you saw that!"

"She's definitely your daughter, then," Pepper retorted, yanking her arm out of Tony's grasp. "And the very last thing I'll let any of them do is keep her locked up like a caged animal."

Tony looked at her, almost dazed. "How did you know we're keeping her locked up?"

Pepper gave somewhat of a scoff. "I'm not stupid, Tony. I know Fury wouldn't allow her to run around free, especially with her being your offspring." Her tone hardened. "Where is she, Tony? I'm going to see your daughter, whether you like it or not."

**Pepper is probably my favorite character in all of the Avengers, and I loved writing her! She's so sweet and caring, especially about Tony, but she never really gets truly angry in any of the movies, so I tried to experiment a little and used my imagination! I really hoped y'all liked it. And the bit between Bruce and Rosie as kind of cute, too, right? They get a little bit of bonding time because I feel like she and Bruce can really relate to each other with the anger issues and all… Cuties :) Thanks to everyone who follows/favorites/reviews, I really do appreciate it and I LOVE YOU ALL! Keep favoriting/following/reviewing and until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews:**

**Ninjaonfire—I'm so excited to write more of Bruce and Rosie's friendship! And that's why I gave them that little chat in ch. 11, because I felt like if any of the Avengers could understand what she's going through, it's Bruce. I'm happy you liked the dream sequence, because (again) there's going to be many more! And the guy, who will be revealed in later chapters, didn't exactly ****_create_**** Rosie's powers… It's very confusing, but it will all be explained. As for Pepper and Tony, I think the same thing as you do, that Pepper will be the one to get him to calm down and start accepting this stuff. And Rosie… Well, Rosie just wants someone to understand.**

**Loveorpain—Exactly! And she will be, but all in good time!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Rosie:**

"Never have I ever been to Mexico," I said, and watched victoriously as Bruce was now down to two fingers. We decided to continue our little game, and it was getting close. Once Fury had said something about a woman named Pepper, Tony immediately took off, and the rest of the Avengers scattered, giving us time to proceed in our immaturity. The agents had delivered food, as promised by Fury, and I was now munching contently on the fries, soup, and what was either crackers of chips, I couldn't tell for sure. They were so stale they barely had any flavor, but I wolfed them down anyway. Granola bar wrappers littered the pristine white floor, and drained, crushed-up water bottles accompanied them. My stomach hadn't growled once while I was here, and I hadn't realized how truly hungry I was until I started eating. Food had never been so good.

"Never have I ever had a French relative," Bruce said as I crunched on a mouthful of cracker-chips. He was looking at me with a knowing expression, and I swallowed hard. I had no choice but to put down another finger, leaving me with only my index finger still standing.

"How did you know?" I asked. Bruce shrugged, grinning hugely.

"When you talk you have the slightest French accent," Bruce said, and I blushed. "It's not too noticeable," he assured me. "But I'm just the kind of person who pays a lot of attention to detail."

"I get it from my grandmother," I said, feeling the sudden need to explain. "She was French—born and raised in France, actually. So was my mom, but she moved here when she was six."

"Can you speak French?"

"A little. I mean, I'm sort of rusty," I said. "Now stop trying to distract me. I know what you're doing, I can see it in your eyes! No more changing the conversation! I'm going to kick your ass whether you like it or not," I smiled, clearly challenging him. "Never have I ever taken orders from Fury."

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed. "That's not fair," he said, but there was only one finger left on his hand. I was going to win this game. A mischievous giggle came from my throat.

"You used my French-ness against me," I retorted. "This is just payback."

"Fine," Bruce said. "Never have I ever been inside that glass box."

I forced back a smile, mock wincing as I lost the game. "That was low, Bruce," I said, feigning hurt. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"I can get pretty competitive."

"Rematch?"

"You're just mad I won."

"Rematch," I demanded, my voice more firm. He didn't get the chance to answer when the door flew open, revealing a woman with short, straight red hair. Behind her, a very high-strung Tony Stark. I put two and two together, and realized that this must be Pepper, the woman Fury briefly mentioned before.

"Are you Tony's daughter?" she asked, her voice low and serious. Determination was etched onto her features, and I didn't know whether to comply with her or give her the inherited Stark sass. Instead, I gave a sort of mock bow.

"The one and only," I said. "What can I do for you?"

Pepper shot a look back at Tony. I was sure it was some form of glare. "She's definitely yours," she said.

"You're Pepper, right?" I blurted, pulling her gaze away from Tony and back to me. She looked sort of stunned.

"Yes," she said, coming towards my glass prison as I pulled myself to my feet in a not so graceful way. _Damn my clumsiness_. "Pepper Potts, that's me," she said slowly, looking at me with a curious expression. "How did you know who I was?"

"Fury mentioned you before," I said with a lazy shrug. "I just put the pieces together. I'm Rosie, Rosie Simon, by the way. I'd shake your hand but we seem to have a slight obstacle in the way." I tapped the glass for emphasis.

"Pleasure to meet you," Pepper said, barely any emotion in her tone. She turned back to Tony. "I thought you said she was a level seven."

"She is," Tony said. "She's just being good right now."

"Because no one's trying to kill me right now," I corrected. "Plus, Bruce and I have a good time."

"You and… Bruce?" Pepper said inquisitively, looking at my newfound friend thoughtfully. Bruce smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

"She's a good kid, really," Bruce said, ignoring the you're-a-traitor look he was getting from Tony. "By the way," he said more to me than to Pepper. "It'll be the meteor apocalypse. Not the zombie apocalypse."

I groaned, frustrated. "Bruce, how many times have I told you? The zombie apocalypse is so much more likely than stupid _meteors_," I said. A small girlish giggle sounded in the room. I saw a smile tugged at Pepper's lips.

"That's it," she said, more to herself than to anyone else. "I've made my decision."

Tony's eyes widened in confusion. "Decision? What decision? _We were making decisions_?!" He looked frantic. Pepper rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

"Pack your things, Rosie," she said, eyeing my granola bar wrappers. "You'll be moving in tonight."

"_What_?!" Tony and my shrieks were in complete unison. The only difference was that mine was excited, almost happy, and Tony's was pure, unbelieving horror.

"Pepper!" he exclaimed. "You—You can't just jump the gun and invite _her_ to come and live with us! You've talked to her for two minutes! And she's a _level seven_! Do you want to adopt a pet tiger while we're at it?!"

"I'm well aware of the fact that she's a level seven!" Pepper snapped, rounding on my father. "But she's also your daughter, not some animal that can be locked up in a cage and abused. And if you think for _one second _that I'm going to sit back and watch your daughter be caged by Fury you're wrong. She's human, Tony, and more importantly she's part of who you are. She's in your life now, level seven or not. And you need to take responsibility for that."

Before any of us could utter another word, Pepper was out the door, expensive heels clacking as she went, leaving the three of us open-mouthed and completely shocked in her wake.

In all of my years, I'd never quite met anyone like Pepper Potts.

* * *

I still couldn't believe what was happening. I was inside the Stark house—actually _inside_, not chained to a stake in the backyard like a dog—after a very long ride in both a helicopter and then in a beautiful cherry red car, which was a convertible vintage mustang. I think I drooled a little bit when I saw it.

But the ride to the Stark household had been completely uncomfortable. Fury, after much arguing and trying to reason with a pissed off, foot-tapping Pepper, sighed in a rather exhausted way and agreed to allow her to take me home under one condition: the Avengers had to be present in the house, and I was not allowed to leave the perimeter without being accompanied by not one, but two Avengers at all times. My jaw hit the floor at that one—I thought I wouldn't ever get out of that glass cage. _Ever_. But Pepper Potts had the intimidation to make the sinister Fury give in to her will.

_Demanding little redhead_.

I definitely had to learn what other tricks she had up her sleeve. Then, not even minutes later, I was piled into a helicopter with the Avengers, as well as four or five extra agents as backup to make sure everything went as planned. The helicopter ride was brief, thank God, but I was forced to be squished between Steve and Natasha, and the woman looked ready to kill me if I so much as blinked at the improper moment.

The ride in the car was even worse. It was just Tony, Pepper, and me, racing through the night in the old sports car. I sat silently, enjoying the scenery of Malibu, as they discussed me the entire ride home, the only difference between them being that Tony talked about me like I wasn't sitting snugly behind him in the backseat. I listened intently the entire time, but I was only able to make out a few words due to the fact that the car was a convertible. Tony mentioned something about how I was a level seven, she was crazy for letting me into the house, and adoption was definitely brought up more than once. Each time, Pepper gave him a sort of death stare.

When we arrived at the house, my mind spun. Their house—which could definitely be considered a modern-day palace—was so large and beautifully decorated that it was dizzying. My old house could've fit in there a hundred times, with room to spare.

"Alright," Pepper said as she ushered me into the living room. I could barely pay attention to her, much to awe-struck at the décor around me. Hand-carved fireplace, crystal vases, priceless paintings, a hand-polished marble floor beneath my feet… I couldn't drink it all in fast enough. Although it was nighttime, I could see the spectacular view of the ocean from out the windows.

_Wasn't he living the life?_

"You'll be sleeping here for the night," Pepper said, showing me a white leather couch with golden embellishments, a silk pillow and fuzzy blanket thrown atop of it. The couch was bigger than any bed I'd ever owned. "The other Avengers should be in soon, but I'll have Tony call and tell them to be quiet when they come in."

"I'm telling them to make all the ruckus they can!" Tony shouted from somewhere upstairs. Pepper rolled her eyes.

"Don't pay attention to him. He's just crabby from the helicopter ride."

"_I am not_!"

I bit my lip, holding back a giggle. "Well, the bathroom's through that door over there, and I guess I'll see you in the morning." Pepper gave me a warm smile before turning on her heel.

"Wait!" I found myself saying. Pepper stopped in her tracks, glancing back at me with wide blue eyes. "Um," there was no way to reword this subtly. "Why are you doing this?" _Not my best choice of words_. "Why are you being so nice to me?" _There you go, Rose._

"I've known Tony for years," Pepper said. "And I know he doesn't always make the best decisions. He tries to, but they don't always work out like he plans. Ever since I met him, I've been trying to help him make those right decisions. Granted, he doesn't always listen to me, but trying is better than sitting back and watching him spiral downwards. I know for a fact that he's scared of you, Rosie, though he doesn't want to admit it. He's scared of what you can do, and he's scared you'll hurt me or anyone else close to him."

I bit my lip. "Are you scared of me?" I asked, my voice soft. Pepper cocked her head to the side.

"If I was, I would've let you stay back on that Helicarrier," Pepper replied. "You're not scary, Rosie. You're just lost. I picked up on that the moment I saw you." She paused for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully. "You're more like your father than you think."

I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. So I just stared up at her, wondering how she wasn't afraid of me, even though I was afraid of myself.

"Goodnight, Rosie," she said, her slender finger reaching out and flicking off the lights. I heard her heels clack up the stairs, disappearing down some long hallway on the second floor. I sat there for a moment, frozen, allowing her words to replay over in my mind.

Finally, I pulled the blankets over my body, settling down into the plush couch. And although I didn't feel comfortable and although this didn't feel like home, sleep overcame me in moments, pulling me into it's dark, warm blanket, where a second nightmare anxiously awaited.

* * *

_I was no longer in the subway, surrounded by mutilated bodies like the last place I'd been in my dreams. Instead, I was in an open field. A wheat field, I realized, with long stalks of golden wheat towering above me, waving in the warm summer breeze. The sky was blue as sapphires, dotted with puffy, milky clouds. It could have been a dream, and a good one, too, if a certain man hadn't been standing in the middle of the wheat field._

_ The man from the subway._

_The man with the blonde hair._

_The man who was responsible for the death of my parents._

_"Your own father is scared of you, Roslyn," the man said. He sounded pleased. He was no longer dressed in a suit, I noticed, but now a pale green button-down, rolled up at the sleeves. He'd traded his suit pants for a pair of khakis that looked too new, too shiny, too perfect._

_ "You again," I said, my voice more of a growl than anything. "Who are you? Why won't you tell me who you are?"_

_ The man chuckled darkly. "Calm down, Rosie, calm down."_

_"I will not calm down!" I said, practically yelling. "You killed my parents. Tell me who you are!"_

_"Oh, but Rosie, I can't," he said, a devious smile on his face. "You see, my superiors gave me specific orders to not tell you who I was until the proper moment." His smile grew. I snarled. "But I'll tell you what. I'll make up a name that you can call me, hm? Does that sound nice?"_

_ "No," I snarled. "I want your name. Your _real_ name."_

_ "Well, that simply won't do." His voice was like velvet, but I wasn't fooled. He was a monster. He was like me. "You can call me rich Ian Ald."_

_ "Rich Ian Ald?" I repeated. "What kind of an alias is that?"_

_ "You'll find out soon enough, Rosie," Ian Ald said, darkly, coming towards me. "You'll find out soon enough."_

_ "Get away from me," I warned. He stopped for a moment, smiled eerily, then continued on his path. "Get away from me!" I repeated, more forcefully now. But he didn't stop stalking towards me, quickening his pace if anything. "Get away from me!" I cried, and turned, sprinting as far from him as I could. He laughed behind me, his vicious laughter echoing throughout the golden field._

_ But the field wasn't golden anymore. As I pushed my legs onward, the golden wheat began to melt, turning red as it did so. The redness sloshed beneath my feet, and the sky above me turned dark. A sickly stench filled my nose. That was when I realized what was really splashing beneath my feet._

_ Blood._

**Well, that was interesting. Sorry if you didn't like it, I know it's kind of strange, but that's just what I feel like Pepper would do. A lot of fanfics I've read portray Pepper to be a little bit bitchy (which is totally fine!) but I feel like she'd see how lost and alone Rosie was, and try to help Tony accept that he can't run from this situation and that he has to make it right. And as for the nightmare, his name rich Ian Ald is just an alias, but he is actually a villain in the Avengers franchise, but his real name will not be revealed until later on! Again, I'm sorry if this sucked a bit. Meh. Finals and stuff… Stressing me out! But I wanted to get this chapter up for y'all anyway, so please keep reviewing/favoriting/following because I really appreciate all of it! And thank you so much to those who do, I love you! Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**FaithfulReader92—I know, right! Pepper is pretty damn amazing, if I do say so myself. And everything about the darkness will be explained, but no the fourth person isn't Lucifer, and I'm dying to say who it is but I can't because it'll ruin the surprise!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Rosie:**

I screamed as the couch gave out beneath me. I crashed onto the floor with a loud, rather unfeminine, "Oof!" I was entangled in the big blanket Pepper had given me last night, coiled up and held prisoner in its fluffy clutches. I pushed myself into a sitting position, nursing the bump on the head I'd just given myself. The cool floor felt fantastic against my overheated skin.

"Hey," I heard someone call. Steve. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine," I muttered, rubbing the welt forming on my scalp as heavy footsteps grew close. "Just rolled off that damn couch, that's all."

I went to use the couch as leverage to pull myself up. "Let me help you," Steve said. I glanced up; he'd extended his hand out to me. He raised his eyebrows, encouraging me to take hold of him.

"Thanks," I said, taking his hand in mine, allowing him to pull me to my feet. My head throbbed, and rubbed my temple. I sure has hell wasn't going to get any more sleep now.

"You alright?" Steve asked, concern etched into his eyes. I nodded, my brows knitting together in the sting of my headache.

"Fine," I said. "Just wondering why I can't wake up like a normal person anymore." I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders, and Steve laughed softly.

"Luxuries like that kind of go out the window once you meet Fury," he said, running a hand through his blonde hair.

"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that," I said. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," Steve said. I gave him a look, and he threw his hands up innocently. "Honest! See?" he said, pointing to a rather confusing looking clock mounted on the wall. "Seven o'clock. If anything, I slept in today."

"This is sleeping in?" I said, almost exclaiming. Steve quickly brought a single finger up to his lips, motioning for me to be quiet. I brought my fingertips to my mouth, and reminded myself that the rest of the Avengers were still sleeping. Last thing I wanted to do was wake a bunch of snoozing assassins. "How can this be sleeping in? It's eight in the morning!" I protested in a whisper-shout.

"I'm an early riser," Steve said, flashing a smile that could've made any girl's heart melt instantly. "I guess it's from all that military training."

"Military training, my ass," I said, plopping back down onto the couch. "Anyone who gets up at this hour is crazy!" I said through a yawn that I attempted to shield with the back of my hand.

"Do you want me to go? I mean, if you're still sleepy…" Steve's voice trailed, and he motioned towards the door, eyeing my still drowsy posture. I waved my hand.

"No, it's alright," I said. "It's not like I'm going back to sleep anyway. Once I'm up, I'm up."

Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking down at me, almost thoughtfully. His mouth pulled into a crooked smile that could definitely make a swarm of girls swoon. I tugged the blanket tighter around myself in an attempt to hide my creeping blush. _Why was he looking at me like that?_

"You know," he said thoughtfully. "I'm glad Pepper brought you here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

Steve shrugged. "You just look better," he said. "Healthier," he added quickly, realizing his words could've offended me. "I mean, you looked kind of sickly when you were in that glass box. Pale, and you had these big purple bags under your eyes. I dunno, I just think a good night's sleep did you some good. Plus, it's always good to have Pepper on your side."

I looked up at him with a small smile. "Yeah. Pepper seems pretty nice."

"She can knock some sense into Tony, too."

I liked that thought more than I should have. But the pleasure from that thought left as quickly as it came. I didn't want Tony to love me because he was forced to. I wanted him to love me because he _wanted_ to. He was my dad, after all, and it was his love that I would always crave, no matter how cruel he was no me, no matter how many times he pushed me away. But I don't think that's ever going to happen, at least, not anytime soon. I was expecting entirely too much from him. He'd brought me here against his wishes, even let me sleep on his couch.

_That was a gesture that was enough to last me a lifetime._

I patted the cushion beside me, inviting the solider to sit. He accepted, perching himself on the cushion next to me. A tiny, marble notebook fell from his jean pocket.

"What's this?" I asked, picking up the notebook swiftly. Steve's face paled.

"Don't look at that!" he said quickly, his hands reaching to take the tiny book form me. Sadly for him, it was too late; I'd already opened the book. Inside, pages upon pages were covered in a scrawl of words. _What was this?_ _A list?_

"Is this a list?" I asked, flipping through the pages with slender fingers. Names of movies, novels, music, art, and people coated every page, ranging from decade to decade.

"Um… Yeah," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. He was embarrassed, glowing a bright shade of pink. "I have to catch up on the times, you know. Being frozen for sixty something years, I've missed kind of a lot."

"ACDC, I Love Lucy," I said, reading off the list, making out the scrawled handwriting as best I could. "Moon landing, Steve Jobs, Nirvana, Thai food… You've thought of everything!" I glanced up at him. "Did someone help you write all this?"

"No, not really. I just kind of jot things down as I go along."

"Wait," I said, my eyes falling to two words that made my heart skip. "The Eagles?"

"Yeah. Tony mentioned them once, so I just kind of threw it on the list," Steve said, looking at me with big, innocent blue eyes. My teeth tugged at my lip, vaguely reminded of Regina George in_ Mean Girls _when she remarks that Cady is like a Martian.

"They're a band," I explained, finding myself a bit lost in the blueness of his eyes. The ocean didn't even compare. "One of my favorites, actually."

I was cut off by the sound of his stomach growling. Loudly. He blushed lightly, pulling his gaze away from mine. _Dammit_. "Sorry," he murmured, placing a palm over his stomach as if to quiet it. I giggled softly.

"Here, I'll tell you what," I said. "Let me hop in the shower for like ten minutes, then when I come out I'll make some breakfast and show you what the Eagles are all about."

Steve's eyes widened. "No, it's alright. Really. You don't have to cook anything for me."

I shrugged, handing the tiny marble notebook back to him. "It's the least I can do for waking you up so early." I pressed the notebook into his palm, which was significantly larger than mine. "I'll be back."

I bounded off into the shower before he could say another word, and if I looked back I would've seen Steve looking at the ground, blushing slightly, twirling the notebook in his fingers. Little did I know he'd already looked up the Eagles a long time ago.

**Yay! Rosie and Steve fluffiness! I don't know, I was originally going to ship Rosie with someone else… But I might be having second thoughts! Your opinions? If you'd ship Rosie and Steve, let me know!:) I'm so excited for the chapters ahead, I've already written up to chapter 22 and I'm so ready for y'all to read them! Hope y'all are as excited as I am… Hahaha, anyways, thank you to all those who read and follow/favorite/review Dancing In the Darkness and as I say every time I LOVE YOU ALL!** **Please keep reviewing/favoriting/following because I truly appreciate it from the bottom of my heart! And here, have some cupcakes! *throws cupcakes to everyone* Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**LadyRocelyn—I can't even begin with this! I was so nervous about posting the last chapter and I thought about changing it because I wasn't sure people would like my portrayal of Pepper. I'm sooo happy it was easy for you to picture her in your head, because I was so nervous I didn't put in enough detail! Lol**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Raven hair_

_And ruby lips_

_Sparks fly from her fingertips_

Tony opened one groggy eye, glancing at the clock. It had better be much later than it felt like. His eyes focused on the red numbers on the clock. This was truly horrible—it was barely seven thirty in the morning. He prayed this was a dream. A very, very bad dream. It was ungodly in his view to wake up before at least nine or ten o'clock, especially on a Friday like this. _Who dare disturb his slumber?_

_Echoed voices in the night_

_She's a restless spirit_

_On an endless flight_

"Honey?" Pepper said, and Tony felt the mattress sink as she rolled over onto her back. _Dammit. Not a dream_. "Why are the Eagles playing downstairs?" Pepper said through a yawn, though they both knew there could be only one explanation.

"I swear I'm going to kill that kid," Tony muttered. And it wasn't just because the person that was blasting the music was Rosie. If anyone woke Tony up before at least nine, they'd be sure to face his wrath. Unless it was Pepper, of course.

_Woo hoo_

_Witchy Woman_

_See how high she flies_

Tony rose from the bed unsteadily. His mind was still heavily drugged with sleep, but the internal alarm clock that was frustration was beginning to wake him, proving to be a rather effective antidote for his drowsiness. He was still pulling on his fluffy bunny slippers, which were a gift from Pepper last Christmas, as he stumbled down the hallway. Don Henley's rich voice filled the air around him.

_Woo hoo_

_Witchy woman_

_She got the moon in her eye_

A sweet, almost intoxicating aroma kissed his nose as he made his way down the stairs, trying not to trip over the blue checkered bathrobe that was just several sized too big for him. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, his eyes fell onto the couch, widening at what he saw. The couch, which he guessed Rosie had slept on, had a neatly folded blanket and a somewhat lumpy pillow piled tidily atop of it. He heard a low, male laugh, accompanied by a girlish giggle. He followed the laughter and honeyed smell into the kitchen, where the music was the loudest.

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at what he saw.

* * *

**Rosie:**

_She held me spellbound_

_In the night_

_Dancing shadows and firelight_

"Cross the Eagles off your list, Captain!" I told the soldier, who was laughing loudly, seated at the granite countertop that was probably more expensive than everything I've owned put together. I lifted the spoon I was using to stir my coffee with up to my lips, using it as an artificial microphone to sing the next line.

_Crazy laughter in another room_

_And she drove herself to madness_

_With a silver spoon_

The super solider laughed again as I slid a plate of a dozen waffles onto the counter. They weren't all for him, of course, but I figured I'd be nice and, while I was at it, just make a bit more waffles for everyone. I mean, these people were master assassins. I needed to get on their good side as soon as possible, and Mom always said the best way to someone's heart was through their stomach. I swung my hips sensually in time with the music, spinning around the kitchen, singing along with Don Henley.

_Woo hoo_

_Witchy woman_

_See how high she flies_

If I'd been looking at him, I'm sure I would've seen Steve's face turn bright red. I rocked my hips, pouring the last of the batter into the waffle iron, humming lightly as I took a sip of my coffee.

"What's the matter, Steve?" I asked, a mischievous glimmer in my eyes. "Never seen a girl dance before?"

I glanced over at him. I was right. Steve's face was flushing a brilliant shade of red, his eyes glued to the waffles he ate as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. "No. Not like that," he said, laughing awkwardly. I giggled.

_Woo hoo_

_Witchy woman_

_She got the moon in her eye_

For a moment, all was forgotten. The food, Steve, the fact that I was in the middle of a kitchen, and I was taken away by the music. Music was a beautiful thing that way. That it could make you lose yourself in its lyrics, whisk you away to a completely different world. I allowed my body to sway in time to the music, my freshly washed hair cascading down my back, still a bit damp. I was totally unaware of the fact that Steve's eyes were on me, and rocked my hips in all the right ways as I sang the next line.

_Well, I know you want a lover_

_But let me tell you, brother_

_She's been sleeping in the Devil's bed_

I heard Steve cough loudly, and noticed that he nearly choked on a chunk of waffle when I said that line. I smirked, forgetting that he wasn't used to this kind of music yet. But it didn't stop me from singing the next line anyway.

_And there's some rumors going round_

_That someone's underground_

_She can rock you in the nighttime_

_Till your skin turns red_

On the word 'rock,' I swayed my hips almost hypnotically, biting back a smile when Steve looked away to hide his blush. "Sing it," I said. "Come on, you know the words by now!" Then came the real threat. "I'm not making any more food until you sing with me."

That got him. We threw out heads back, singing the last words together.

_Woo hoo_

_Witchy woman_

_See how high she flies_

_Woo hoo_

_Witchy woman_

_She got the moon in her eye!_

Steve and I laughed in unison again, more laughing at our horrible singing voices than anything. This wasn't the same man I'd fought in New York, the one that I'd talked to on the Helicarrier. He was different, more friendly somehow. I never would've expected to be the way he was—reserved, calm, a bit shy, even. Very old-fashioned. The serious solider was gone, and the man that sat before me only looked like him.

"What the hell is going on?" I heard a voice—Tony's voice—boom. I glanced up. Tony was standing there, behind Steve, wrapped in a blue bathrobe that went far past his ankles. I threw my hand over my mouth to keep me from laughing when I noticed his feet. Who would've thought the Iron Man wore a pair of fluffy white bunny slippers?

"What's going on here?" Tony repeated, his tone more serious.

"Breakfast," I said simply, turning to the stove, unloading strips of sizzling bacon from the pan. I leaned towards Steve. "Or do people like you not do stuff like breakfast?"

"I dunno," Steve shrugged, and jabbed his thumb in Tony's direction. "He might not. But I sure do."

He slid the plate towards me. My eyes widened, nearly bulging out of my head. The plate, which I had covered in food not nearly ten minutes ago, was empty, all that was left of the dozen or so waffles just a couple of crumbs.

"Do you want more?" I asked, taking the empty plate and replacing it with the one full of bacon. Steve smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. If you don't mind," he said quickly. "You're just a really good cook."

"Thanks," I said with a genuine smile, taking the empty plate and sliding the plate full of bacon into its spot. "I used to work in a restaurant. You learn a thing or two about cooking."

"When did you two suddenly become friends?" Tony asked, irritation showing through his face.

Steve and I glanced at each other. "Well, after you told me you didn't want me, he and I talked on the Helicarrier," I said. "And this morning I kind of woke him up when I rolled off the couch."

"She screamed," Steve clarified.

"So we talked for a bit and then I decided to remedy waking him up early with breakfast," I finished with a nonchalant shrug. I casually picked up the plate, offering it to Tony. "Bacon?"

I could practically see the smoke coming out of Tony's ears. What was his deal? All I did was make one of his co-workers breakfast. _Well, excuse me for trying to be polite!_

"Oh, look!" Pepper said chipperly, appearing next to Tony, tying her pink and purple bathrobe shut. The bright colors clashed horridly with her hair, but I paid no mind. "You made breakfast!"

"It's good, too," Steve commented, raising a fourth piece of bacon to his mouth.

"She probably poisoned it," Tony grumbled, earning him a death glare from Pepper. I could read that stare's real message: _play nice_. I probably would've glared at him, too, but my attention was focused elsewhere.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, smacking Steve's hand away from the plate. "That's all that's left. Save some for everyone else, will you?"

"No eggs?" Pepper questioned, looking over the breakfast I'd prepared. Waffles, bacon, coffee… Wasn't that enough?

"No," I said. "I didn't want to cook all the food in the house." Then I scrunched my nose, not really caring that combined with my chubby cheeks it made me look like a three-year-old. "And I hate eggs."

Tony looked at me like I just said that concrete was a vegetable. "What?" he said, reaching into a cabinet for a box of cereal. Really? I just cooked all this food and he was going to have cereal? _Asshat_. "How can you not like eggs?" he asked.

I made a face. "I can't stand them. Never can, never will. Boiled, fried, Benedict, scrambled," the thought of the food made my stomach churn uncomfortably. "Nope. Can't do it. My mom even had aversions to eggs when she was pregnant with me."

Pepper laughed, pouring coffee into a ridiculously large green mug. Tony, who was pouring some sort of healthy cereal I didn't recognize into a small bowl, glared at me. "I know what you're up to."

I rolled my eyes. "Look. I'm just trying to make the best of things," I said as I wound my hair up into a ponytail. "I'm a quick learner. Bad behavior means glass box, good behavior means comfy couch. You're smart. Which do you think I'm going to choose?"

Tony's lip curled, and if it weren't socially frowned upon I was sure he would've bit me already. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "But I suggest you clean this place up before noon."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Thor's coming."

**Time for Thor! Woohoo! I wanted to add a bit more Steve/Rosie stuff, but I didn't want it to seem like their relationship was moving too fast. I hope I did okay! And some of you may or may not have noticed, but I took the liberty to change the cover photo for this story to what I think Rosie would look like. One of my friends made it by editing a picture of Sasha Peterse (I think that's her name), and I love it so much that I put it as the cover! I have no idea how she did it because technology confuses me… but if you didn't imagine her like that it's totally chill:) Anyway, thanks to all those who follow/favorite/review, and please continue to do so because I really appreciate it! I love you all, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**Ninjaonfire—Pepper is one of the most kick-ass characters I've ever seen, and she's not even an Avenger! She's gonna be slapping ****_plenty_**** of sense into Tony, but Tony and Rosie really won't get along for a while. They're like cats and dogs! And I love that you liked the Steve/Rosie fluff! There was a little bit more in this chapter, and there will be a LOT more to come, so I'm really happy you liked it! Things between him and Rosie will definitely develop… The cuties:)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Rosie:**

After cleaning up a mountain of plates (as well as making about two dozen more waffles for Steve, and even more when Bruce showed up), I dried my hands off on a yellow dishtowel, and decided to plop down on the couch again, seeing as I had not much better to do. I was informed, rather shortly by Tony, that Clint and Natasha had gone out to run a few errands. Steve had vanished for a morning run, Pepper to the upstairs, and Bruce to the lab downstairs.

I settled myself into the lush cushions again, embracing the time I had alone. It felt nice to not be observed like a freak anymore. Sunlight poured through the windows, which were so large and spacious that I was convinced it took fifteen bottles of Windex to clean. The view of the ocean they provided was beyond dazzling. I could practically smell the salt water from here. I closed my eyes, sinking deep into relaxation, allowing the warm sun to drench my skin in its warmth.

"Don't get too comfy," Tony said. I opened one eye. He'd changed, trading his bathrobe for worn-down jeans and a Black Sabbath tee shirt.

"You changed," I said, a slight twinge of disappointment in my voice. "Pity. I quite liked those bunny slippers."

"Those were a gift from Pepper last Christmas. Don't you dare mock them," Tony warned. "And speaking of changes, you and I have a lot to discuss."

I sat up on the couch, propping myself up on one hand, looking at him expectantly. "Such as?"

"Pepper won't let me kick you out, or put you up for adoption," Tony growled in an extremely annoyed tone. _Bless that woman_. I couldn't go back to a life on the streets. "So we need to lay down a few rules," Tony continued, his face growing more serious, if that was even possible. "Rule number one: you live by whatever I say. Don't look at me like that until I'm finished," he said, cutting off my glare. "Rule number two: you do what I tell you, when I tell you. No sass, no questions, no smart-ass comebacks, or I _will_ find a way to kick you out. Rule number three, and probably the most important rule: you do not go near _any_ of my cars. _Ever_. Same with the Iron Man suits. You can't even breathe in the same room with them. And rule number four," he looked me over. "You need to change your look."

I was being good and silent until he said those words. That made me jump off the couch entirely. "My look?" I repeated, startled. "What's wrong with how I look?"

He eyed me carefully. I didn't know what he was talking about. Rugged converse, slightly torn skinny jeans, and black ACDC tee shirt. I looked like a normal teenager. "I looked fine," I said.

"You look like a homeless person," Tony retorted, not missing a beat. "And if you're going to be at my house, associated with me, I will not have you looking like that."

"So what do you suggest I do?" I said coldly, folding my arms across my chest. Tony sighed deeply, in a I-didn't-sign-up-for-this sort of way. "Well, Pepper—" Tony was cut off by the honking of a horn outside. It was a squeaky kind of horn, like the sound belonged to a car that was either dead or dying. A chill ran through my spine, spreading to my fingertips. _I'd know that horn anywhere_. I was bolting towards the door before I could stop myself. I threw open the door, which was I'll add was much heavier than any door should ever be, and was met by the most beautiful sight in the world.

"My baby!" I squealed, darting over to the ugly old truck parked in the driveway. Clint and Natasha climbed out, but I could tell that Natasha was seriously considering hopping back in and running me over. I didn't care. A part of me, a part of my old life, was sitting here before me in all of its splendor.

My poor baby looked so out of place, like an ugly duckling amongst swans. His red paint job was chipped and faded with time, giving the entire truck a orangey hue, almost matching the color of my hair. The windshield had been bashed in many times, so much so that I'd forgotten every story. His doors were dented and scratched, showing my baby's true age. But I could care less, for I loved my old truck just the same.

"_That's_ her car?" I heard Tony ask, clearly disgusted. Normally, I would've spat back some sarcastic comment, but I was much too excited that my truck was here, so I ignored him, spotting a large duffel bag in the back.

"Did you get my stuff?" I asked, shocked, turning to Clint and Natasha.

"Pepper told us to," Clint explained. "She thought you might need a few things, since you'll be moving in now, I suppose. We traced your name back to a house in Los Angeles, a street called Blackberry Boulevard." _Blackberry Boulevard_. The name of my former street sent chills up my spine—and not the good kind. "We just gathered everything that was left and threw it into that duffel bag."

A sinking feeling came over me. It was almost sad that everything I owned could fit into a blue duffel bag. And it didn't even look to be overflowing. I pulled the navy blue bag from the bed of the truck, hoisting it easily into the air. It wasn't even the slightest bit heavy.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tony said, blocking the doorway like a bouncer, arms folded firmly over his brightly glowing arc reactor. "You don't honestly think you're coming in here with that, do you?"

I blew my hair out of my face. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know what's in that bag. There could be guns or drugs or something," he said, eyes falling to the oversized bag. I rolled my eyes.

"Aren't you being just a bit paranoid? The agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. put it together, I highly doubt there'll be anything of that sort in here."

Tony's eyes narrowed, and I didn't blame him. My former street, Blackberry Boulevard, didn't exactly have the best reputation. Anything that came out of there wasn't good, even if it was personally packed by highly trained agents. He extended his hand. "Give it to me."

I sighed reluctantly. I knew I had to choice. "Fine. Search it," I said, and he snatched the bag from my hand. "You won't find anything interesting in there except a couple of thongs and sweatpants."

The bag was dropped immediately, thudding to the floor. He was wiping his hands on his pants, looking disgusted. "Jarvis!" he called. "Search the bag!"

"Right away, sir," came a British voice, and my entire duffel bag was consumed in a blue light. I jumped back, startled. Tony smirked, looking rather smug about the fact that I was frightened.

"AI," he said. "Artificially intelligent computer."

_Figures_. _He's Tony Stark, after all_.

The blue light disappeared, and the British voice, that I assumed was Jarvis the AI, came back. "No weapons or illegal substances to report, sir," Jarvis said. "Just clothing women's lingerie, like she said."

Now it was my turn to wear the smug expression. "See? I'm telling the truth," I said, taking my duffel bag from the floor. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"You're welcome, Miss Simon."

"No talking to Jarvis!" Tony said, infuriated, pointing his finger at me in a scolding manner. "You do _not_ get to talk to Jarvis!"

_WHAM!_

A quake rocked through the ground, causing me to drop my bag onto the floor. I cried out, my knees wobbling. "Whoa!" I shouted, shakily regaining my balance. Just as quickly as it came, the earthquake was gone. My eyes snapped to Tony. "What the hell was that?!"

"That," Tony answered. "Would be Thor."

* * *

I felt very, very small. It seemed like I was back at square one right now. I was sitting on the couch once again, but this time I was back to being looked at like an experiment in a lab. All the Avengers were crowded into Tony's living room, every one of them staring at me. Awkward didn't even begin to describe it. I crossed my ankles, uncrossed them, crossed them again. It would be so much less awkward if they were just _talking _to each other, even if it was about me.

"So you are Roslyn, of Midguard," Thor said, the one to break the earsplitting silence. "Daughter of Tony Stark." It wasn't a question, but rather a statement.

"At your service," I said, though I knew he wasn't asking for confirmation. The thunder god didn't even raise an eyebrow at my sass.

"Tony tells me that you have certain powers," Thor continued. His voice was smooth like silk, cultured and sophisticated. It made me feel almost relaxed. Almost. "He says that your powers that are believed to not come from Midguard's origin."

I shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm just cursed with them."

Thor raised an eyebrow, strolling towards me. "Stand," he said. His luxurious voice didn't make the word sound like a command, but rather a suggestion. I lifted myself onto my feet. He towered over me, much more so than Steve did, and Steve was a good foot taller than me, maybe even more. Thor was a giant. If I wasn't aware of my mortality before, I certainly was now.

"Give me your hands," he said, extending his large palms towards mine. I looked up at him.

"Listen, I'll cut you some slack here. I know you haven't exactly been here for the past couple of episodes, but I'm kind of deadly, if you haven't already picked up on that," I said. "So I'm not exactly sure if you comfortable with—"

"Give me your hands," Thor said, his words more firmly this time.

"Alright, alright," I said smoothly, sliding my hands into his. My hands were so tiny—like a baby's—compared to his hard, calloused ones.

"Let me see your powers," he said. I bit my lip. _Was he crazy? Had I heard him correctly?_

"Right now? In here?" I questioned, looking around the exquisitely (and expensively) decorated room. "Don't you think that's a little bit dangerous?"

"He's practically a god, Roslyn," Natasha said harshly. "I'm sure he can handle it."

I gnawed on my lower lip. I didn't want to admit it to anyone but myself, but I was scared. The last thing I wanted to do was turn back into that thing, that _monster_. I glanced over at Bruce. Of all the people crowded into the room, I trusted him the most, though we'd only known each other for a short time.

"Don't let me get out of control, okay?" I said, clearly nervous. He nodded.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I sighed in relief, somewhat more comforted by his words. At least I had one person looking out for me. My eyes turned back to the blonde god before me. "Brace yourself," I warned. "This could get ugly."

With one last nervous glance at Bruce, I laid my eyes on Tony. Nothing infuriated me like that man. And it wasn't because of the way he treated me. No, it was much more than that. It was because of the way he'd treated my mother. I felt the anger awakening inside me. He'd seduced her, used her for his own personal pleasures, wooed her into bed and then left her like a piece of meat. My mother didn't deserve that. _No one_ deserved that. She was just a kid, only nineteen—just two years older than I was now. He'd been twenty-six at the time, seven years her senior. He should've known better. He should've treated her like she deserved.

I gripped Thor's hands. If he'd been human, I'm sure I would've broken them with the force I was exerting. I cried out, the anger boiling through every nerve in my body. I could feel the darkness flowing into his body. My knees buckled as I exploded, the darkness crackling out of my body like whips.

I felt Thor's hands slip from mine, a strong arm winding around my waist, pulling me away from the god, restraining me from Tony. "Rosie," Bruce said, holding me tightly. "Calm down, Rosie. Calm down."

I cried out again, the burning in my body unbearable to stand. My brain was screaming for me to let go, to let the darkness consume all of them, but I fought against the instinct. If I let go, there was no turning back, and I'd probably end up killing all of them.

_And I'd end up back in the glass prison_.

"It—It hurts…" I heard myself whimper. My legs gave out, and I held onto Bruce desperately for support.

"I know," he said. "But you're stronger than this, Rosie. If I can fight back the Other Guy, you can fight this. Focus on my voice. Focus on what I'm saying to you now…"

I drew air into my lungs in slow, deep breaths. My entire body trembled as I fought back the darkness inside me, doing as Bruce told me. The center of my attention became his voice, the soothing words he was telling me. My nails dug into his forearm and I squeezed my eyes shut, determined to dissolve the last of my anger.

I thought of my mother's voice. The things she used to say to me, the lullabies she would sing, the stories she would tell when I was little. She was always so vivacious, so energetic, so uncaring of what anyone else in the world thought of her. She was always to _beautiful_. Her face came into my mind, her wildly curly red hair and loving green eyes. She was smiling warmly. I felt all of the muscles in my body relax, the darkness slowly fade away. "_Calm_," my mother was saying in my head. "_Calm, Roslyn. Calm._"

I opened my eyes to find the Avengers, all of them tense, like a pride of lions ready to attack their prey. All except for Bruce and Steve, who looked more concerned than ferocious.

I shakily regained my balance. "Thanks," I said to Bruce, his hands on my arms as I wobbled for a moment.

"Don't mention it," he said.

"You alright, Rosie?" Steve asked, blue eyes wide with worry. I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure if I was or not. Bruce's hands left my arms, and I pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes as it turned from black to red.

"Told you it could get ugly," I said to Thor, who's expression was a blend of shock and amazement.

"You did warn me," he said. "But I am sorry to say that I can be of no help. This…" he searched for the right word. "_Poison_… is like nothing I've ever seen before."

If we were in a soap opera, we all would've taken a collective gasp. A feeling of dread spread through me. This was Thor—the god of thunder, who was probably thousands of years old—telling us that even he hadn't seen anything like me before. A sinking feeling took hold of my heart. I saw Bruce and Steve exchange worried looks. _What the hell was wrong with me?_

**Okay, so we need to talk about something. I decided that Thor needed to come in this chapter, but literally as I was writing this there was a huge thunderstorm outside! Coincidence? I think not. So feel free to leave comments for this chapter, because everything will start tying into place soon. Also, Steve and Rosie fluff is coming! *fan girl shriek* So excited! But I'm going to be a bit busy with finals and studying, so if I don't get them all up immediately please understand! And please keep favoriting/following/reviewing, and special thanks to all those who do because I appreciate it so much! Alright, I love y'all, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**P.S. I also have an Avengers one-shot that I should have up within the next week! It's a Loki/OC one-shot, so I'm super excited for that and make sure to check it out if you desire! Thanks, love y'all!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Rosie:**

Hours passed since Thor had arrived. I was sitting on the couch again, a place I found myself to be a lot today. I'd taken quickly to burying my nose deep into a book I found in my duffel bag. It was a book I'd read a million times over, but I delved myself into it with such intensity that no one would know the difference. I'd rather read this one book for the rest of my life than have to glance up and receive a glare from Natasha, or Tony.

After my little explosion with Thor only hours before, everyone had scattered again. This time, I didn't know where to. All I knew was that I was left alone with my thoughts again, something that proved to be very dangerous nowadays. So, instead of having to deal with the chore that was my thoughts, I'd submerged myself into _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, and remained that way ever since. I wasn't sure how much time had passed but I knew it was a good nine or ten hours, because it had grown dark outside.

I heard heels clack down the stairs. "Rosie?" I heard Pepper call, her voice echoing throughout the foyer. "Where are you?"

"Couch," I murmured.

"Come here for a second?"

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p,' and rising from the couch.

"Bring the bag, too," she added. I winced, cringing inwardly at her words. I sighed heavily, taking the chunky blue book back into the bag before tossing the whole thing over my shoulder. Pepper was probably having second thoughts after seeing me explode before. She was probably going to tell me to gather my things, that I'd have to find somewhere else to stay. Maybe she'd even send me back to Fury. I cringed at the thought.

_I'd rather die_.

I shifted the bag on my shoulder, meeting Pepper halfway up the stairs. I didn't give her the chance to speak first. "You're sending me back, right?" I blurted. I watched Pepper's face morph into an expression of confusion. Then she laughed.

"Rosie, no! I wouldn't be able to do something like that," she said. "Tony needs to learn to embrace his responsibilities, not send them away. Even if they are level sevens."

I averted my gaze to the ground. "Oh," I said awkwardly. I shifted the bag on my shoulder uncomfortably, feeling rather stupid that I jumped to such a harsh conclusion so quickly.

"Don't be sorry," Pepper said, sensing my discomfort. "You're no more unstable than Bruce." I wasn't sure whether that was supposed to make me feel better or worse. "Now come upstairs," Pepper said, waving her hand in an inviting motion. "There's something I want to show you."

I climbed the rest of the stairs, bag flopping against my side with each step I took. I followed the redhead woman up to the second story, which was even more elaborate and beautiful than the first. The glossy white walls and glass décor made me feel like I stepped into the future. Everything was intricately garnished, down to the very doorknobs which I was sure were one hundred percent pure crystal. I was gawking at the details of the upstairs until I came to a screeching halt, nearly bumping into Pepper. She hadn't noticed, but instead turned one of the doorknobs, pushing the door open to reveal the biggest bedroom I'd ever seen in my life. My jaw hit the floor.

"It's the guest bedroom," she explained as I stepped into the gigantic room. "Tony took to the idea of giving each of the Avengers a room of their own when they first formed, so the guest room doesn't get used often. It's practically it's own apartment, with a full bathroom there and a walk-in closer behind that door over there."

My eyes bulged when I looked at her. "A-Are you… Giving me a bedroom?" I asked, choking on the words as they bubbled on my tongue.

Pepper smiled. "I can't have you sleeping on the couch forever, now can I? What if I get mad at Tony? Where will he sleep?"

A strangled, giddy laugh came from my throat. I just couldn't believe this! This room was the size of ten of my old room put together. A rich grey-and-blue bed, obviously king-size and breathtakingly inviting, was pushed up against the wall, standing firmly in the center of two tall, arched windows. Opposite the bed was a modern fireplace—the kind that had glass where there was normally brick—complete with a set of furniture that was enough to fill my old living room twice. Standing on either side of the room were white doors, one that lead to the bathroom and the other to the closest. Pepper wasn't kidding. This _was_ a miniature apartment.

"This is _ridiculous!_" I said, practically squealing, feeling so excited I could explode. "Thank you, Pepper, thank you, thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," Pepper said genuinely. "Tony and I are right down the hall as are Natasha and Clint, Steve's downstairs, and Bruce is in the basement."

"What about Thor?"

"He moves around," she said simply. "If you need anything, just holler, and I'm sure one of them will be there help you." I saw her peer around me, searching for boxes of some sort. "Is that all?" she asked, her eyes landing on my duffel bag.

I nodded, feeling a bit ashamed that this was all I possessed. "I was very poor growing up," I said, and gestured to the bag on my arm. "This is kind of all I have."

Pepper's face flushed nearly as red as her hair. "Oh. I'm sorry."

I waved away the apology with a shrug. "Don't be. I'm not. Makes traveling easy." I tossed the bag onto the bed in a fluid motion.

"Right. Well, I guess I'll leave you alone to unpack. Holler if you need anything," she said. She turned on her heel, hair swishing behind her in a red wave as she disappeared down the hall. I smiled after her. She was a truly amazing person. There weren't many people I knew that would be willing to accept their partner's illegitimate daughter with open arms.

I shook my head, a grin still plastered on my face, going over to my bag. I unzipped it, and my life spilled before me. Photographs, clothing, books, CDs… Natasha and Clint weren't kidding when they said they'd gathered everything that was left. I put myself into unpacking mode, dumping out the contents of the bag onto the bed. I loaded the clothes I had into my arms. It was sad that I'd be able to unpack all my clothes in one trip. I went into the walk-in closet, which had a horde of hangers and several mirrors. It could have easily fit fifteen girls' clothes and still have extra room. I blushed, looking down at the clothes in my arms. This closet was going to look very empty.

I laid my eyes on the pretty white dresser, and began stocking it with my jeans, pajamas, underwear, sweatpants, and T-shirts. The rest I had were dresses, which totaled to a grand amount of two, and a couple pairs of shoes, which I lay in the much too large shoe rack. I didn't bother to glance at all the extra room I had in the closet. It was too pitiful. So I escaped the empty void that was my practically barren closet, and returned to the rest of my belongings on the bed.

I smiled as my eyes rested on the books and CDs I owned. I had never been ashamed of the outdated disks I owned, even when everyone else had an iPod or iWhatever. Finding each and every one of these CDs was a struggle, which made them precious little treasures in my eyes. ACDC, the Eagles, Bon Jovi, Metallica, Journey, Guns N Roses… the last thing you'd find me listening to was that Justin Bieber. I loaded up the CDs as well as the books, which were all extremely well-read and dog-eared in my favorite parts. The ones I handled most carefully was my Harry Potter collection. I'd read them so much they'd actually started to tear at the spines. I carefully put up my books on the bookshelf standing proudly beside the fireplace, piling my CDs up next to it. There was only one thing that remained on my bed.

_The photographs_.

I picked up the delicate images, hesitantly turning them over in my fingers. These were the last pictures I had left of my family, but they were my favorites. My heart began to ache without even looking at them. I couldn't bear to see these images, at least not tonight. The memories they would bring back would be too much. I decided to stuff them into the drawer of the nightstand. They would remain there until it was time to relive the past.

When I shut the nightstand drawer, I heard a loud crash. I jumped, my ears perking, listening intently. A strangled yell came from downstairs. I tiptoed over to the door, peeking my head out into the hallway. It was dark, deserted. A single wave of light was coming from the first floor, the living room.

I tiptoed slowly down the hallway, and forced myself not to yelp when another crash sounded, louder than the first one. "I can't believe you gave her that room…" I heard Tony say.

"Well, what did you expect me to do?" Pepper said, her words biting. "Have her sleep on the couch when there's a perfectly good vacant room?"

"Yes."

"You're unbelievable."

I came to the edge of the hallway, my back pressing up against the wall. I was cloaked in the secrecy of the shadows, not daring to venture further. I felt a twinge of guilt for spying on them, but I was unable to pull myself away. A reflective surface glistened on the marble floor downstairs. A mirror had been smashed, no doubt in Tony's anger, the remnants of the glass scattered over the floor.

"I don't understand why you can't just learn to accept this," Pepper said. I imagined her seated cross-legged in an armchair, glass of white wine in hand, her voice even and velvety. "She's not something you can run away from."

"Why do you always take her side?" Tony snapped. He was probably standing with his back to her, running his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"I'm not taking sides, Tony," Pepper said. "But the way you've been treating her is unacceptable."

"Unacceptable?" Tony repeated. "Pepper, she's dangerous! You saw what she did today! She could've torn down the house if she really wanted to! For crying out loud, she's a _level seven_."

"Numbers, Tony! Those are just numbers!" Pepper said, her voice a few octaves away from a shout. "That's your main problem. You see her as Fury does, a level seven and nothing more. Tony, _she's your daughter_, and I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that until it sinks in."

"You don't want me to focus on the numbers? Fine," Tony said, reluctantly. "Then let's focus on something else. Oh, how about the fact that she's straight out of _Blackberry Boulevard_?!"

I could almost hear Pepper's eyes narrow. "I don't care where she's from. She's still human, and she's scared."

"Honey, she's riffraff!" His words were nearly a shout. "She's from Blackberry Boulevard, you know what kind of people come out of there! She's a street rat! A dangerous, good-for-nothing, level seven street rat!" His tone hardened. "And once she turns eighteen, I'm sending her back to Blackberry where she belongs."

"You won't do that," Pepper said. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

Their argument continued, but I had lost interest. My mind was focused on what Tony had just said, his words tumbling around in my head. I could feel the white-hot tears welling in my eyes. His words stung like I never thought they could. With one hand on the wall for support and the other wiping away the trickling tears, I slowly made my way back to my room, not caring if they heard me or not.

_Blackberry Boulevard_. _ Estelle Carter_. _Illegitimate_._ Level seven_. That was all Tony saw when he looked at me. It pained me to the core. I threw myself onto the too-large bed, hugging the pillow tightly. _Riffraff_… _Street rat_… _Good-for-nothing_...

"I don't buy any of it," I murmured into the fluff of the pillow. _Street rat_, _good-for-nothing_… He has no idea what I've been through. Hell and back, that's what I've had to endure. I sniffled. He might be one of the most intelligent men of our age, but even if he looked real close, he wouldn't see that I'm so much more than his vicious stereotypes.

* * *

_"What a sour ending to an otherwise beautiful day," I heard a voice say. I spun around. I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep, but I had. Now I was in a stunning restaurant, a French one that was bustling with activity. The tablecloths were a rich, creamy color, and dark wood lined the walls and the chairs. I was dressed in a floor-length gown that sparkled like the sun._

_And there, sitting at a table in the center of the restaurant, was rich Ian Ald. He was dressed in a handsome onyx suit, his blonde hair slicked back._

_"What is this?" I asked, my eyes narrowed into slits. Ian Ald smiled warmly._

_"Le Devin," Ian Ald said with a perfect French accent. "A French restaurant, one of the most expensive in the world."_

_"And why am I dreaming about it?"_

_"Because, quite frankly, I believe I've scared you enough." Ian Ald swept his arm invitingly toward the chair across from him. "Come, ma petite colombe. Sit."_

_I wanted scowl at his words. How dare he call me his little dove! But part of me knew better. If I scolded him, this could very easily turn into a nightmare. A dark-haired waiter pulled out the chair, requesting for me to take a seat. Hesitantly, I did so. The table was small, circular, a tiny flickering candle between us. The space between him and I was so minute that I could feel his knees brushing against mine._

_"Why this?" I asked, watching him intently as he poured two glasses of white wine. "Why not another nightmare?"_

_"It's a strategy used often in war, with prisoners that are taken," Ian Ald said in a voice so smooth that velvet would be envious. "In order to receive the information the generals want from their prisoners, they break them. Physically and mentally, with torture that is almost too cruel to imagine. Skinning, boiling, burning…" he counted the ways on his fingers. The thoughts made me cringe. "And then, when the prisoners are breaking, they stop, and nurse them back to health again, build them back up so they can break them even more the next time."_

_"So that's what you're doing to me?" I asked as he handed me a glass of the sparkling liquid. "Breaking me over and over again?"_

_"Precisely." He raised his glass to mine. "Cheers."_

_Our glasses clinked, and he took a small sip of the wine, his eyes focused on me the entire time. I didn't break my gaze with him and didn't dare to drink the liquid, my fingertip circling the rim of the glass instead._

_"However," Ian Ald said, sighing deeply and placing his glass back onto the table. "You're not that easy to break."_

_"No," I agreed. "I'm not."_

_"Which is why I've given you this dream tonight instead of another nightmare," he said. "I'm not through breaking you yet, Rosie, but I'd rather not have to. I'd much rather have you join me with an open mind rather than doing so reluctantly."_

_I raised an eyebrow at him. "Explain."_

_"You and I," Ian Ald said, placing his hand over mine. "We are both level sevens. Very powerful, ones at that. However, if we are apart, Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the Avengers could destroy us quite easily. We are strong, but if we were to work together, we could be invincible. This world would be ours, and they would all be forced to bow down to us." His mouth pulled into a handsome smile. "We could rule this world with our fists of darkness."_

_His words were slow and inviting. The thought came to my mind before I could stop it, and I found myself entranced. The entire world at my feet, ready and willing to perform my will. I would be a queen, Queen Roslyn, no longer known as a level seven but as a goddess, one who Nick Fury and the Avengers would quickly learn to fear._

_The Avengers._

_Steve and Bruce came to my mind. They'd done nothing to me so far except tried to help me. I thought of Steve and I, singing and dancing around the kitchen to the Eagles. And Bruce, a smile plastered on his face as we played the immature game of Never Have I Ever. And even Pepper—she allowed me to stay in her home after knowing me for less than ten minutes. I might have Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D., and my own father against me, but I did have three people on my side, helping me, treating me as a human being and not a weapon of mass destruction._

_"No," I said, tearing my hand away from his. "We can't enslave innocent people like that. It's wrong. Inhumane." I swallowed hard. "I don't want any more people to fear me."_

_Ian Ald's eyes turned dark. "Very well," he said, his smooth voice going sinister. "I gave you a chance to accept my proposal. Although you have not yet accepted, you will join me in the end, Roslyn Simon." His eyes flashed. "And I don't care how many times I have to break you to do so."_

**How sinister! I really don't have much to say about this chapter, because I'm much too excited for the ones to come! Things are going to get very dark very fast, so be prepared! Thank you to all those who favorite/follow/review, and leave your comments if you want because I do love getting reviews!:) Please keep favoring/following/reviewing because I do appreciate it! Love y'all, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Rosie:**

"Morning, sleepyhead," Pepper called from behind a newspaper as I padded into the kitchen. "Sleep well in your new room?"

"Like a rock," I lied, smoothing out my long-sleeved blue shirt. Though the bed was a thousand times more comfortable than the couch—which I found hard to believe—I found myself tossing and turning all night. Especially after that nightmare.

"Good," Pepper said, sounding satisfied. "If you're hungry, just help yourself to anything in the fridge."

"It's alright," I said. "I'm actually not that hungry."

That wasn't a lie. Hunger didn't bother me that much anymore, probably because I'd stopped noticing it. Food was sometimes scarce in my old house, and sometimes I'd go a few days without food so Mom or Dad could have extra. After all, they had been the ones who were working the toughest jobs.

I looked around. The house was empty again. "Where is everyone?"

"Clint and Natasha went out on S.H.I.E.L.D. business, Thor is upstairs, Tony and Bruce are in the basement, and Steve went out to rent a motel because he can't stand it when people argue." She glanced up at me. "Did you hear anything last night?"

"Nope," I lied, popping the 'p.' "I just crawled into bed and kind of zonked out."

"Oh," Pepper said, sounding pleased. "Well, good."

I padded by her, my bare feet soundless on the floor. I felt a bit out of place—no one walked around with bare feet in this house. "Where are you going?" Pepper asked.

"The basement," I answered her. "Gonna go see if I can bond a little bit with my dear ol' dad."

Pepper sent a, "Good luck," after me, though I knew she was biting her tongue. She didn't want me to go see Tony, yet she did at the same time. She was afraid of the things we'd say to each other, the things that could make our relationship from bad to worse. But we had to sort out or differences, at least learn to cooperate under the same roof, even if all that meant was not arguing anymore.

The marble floor switched to a winding staircase, which I followed below the first floor. I was met by a glass wall, allowing me to look into the giant room. When Pepper had said basement, I never would've expected it to look like this.

Lining up and down the sides were expensive, vintage sports cars, in every color imaginable. Jaguars, Lamborghinis, Ferraris… I was pretty sure that there was a puddle of drool at my feet. State-of-the-art technology was strewn about the room in organized little clutters. Various Iron Man suits lined the walls in secure cases. And in the very middle of all of it was Tony and Bruce.

"Sir," I heard Jarvis say from inside the basement. "The young Miss Stark is here."

"Don't call her that," Tony said, not looking up from his work. "I don't like it."

"Very well, sir. Roslyn is here."

"Don't let her in. Tell her to go away."

"What?" Bruce said, giving Tony a confused look, his hands halting on the beaker of blue liquid he'd been working with.

"Isn't that a bit rude, sir?" Jarvis said.

"Yes," Tony answered, not missing a beat. "Now tell her to leave."

I rolled my eyes. _He couldn't get rid of me that easily._ I tried to push the glass door open, but it wouldn't budge. I noticed there was a keypad next to it, glowing with greenish-blue lights. I smirked wickedly, my fingers flying over the glass buttons, pressing all the right numbers. My ears registered a click, and the door opened.

_Piece of cake._

"Morning, Bruce," I said, strolling into the basement casually. I gave a curt nod in my father's direction. "Tony."

"Wha—Jarvis!" Tony boomed, his eyes wide. "I told you not to let her in!"

"It's not my fault, sir," Jarvis said calmly, and I'm sure it would've been accompanied by a polite shrug if he were a human being. "She knew the passcode."

Tony's eyes turned to me, glaring menacingly. "How did _you_ know the passcode?"

I shrugged. "Maybe next time it shouldn't be something so juvenile like, _IronManRox_."

Bruce burst out laughing, and Tony went a deep shade of red, his glare intensifying. _So much for bonding time with dear ol' dad_.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you," I said, plopping down on a stool near where they were working, my nervous fingers pulling my red braid over my shoulder. "I just wanted to see what you were up to."

"We're doing science," Tony said flatly. "Big, grown-up things you wouldn't understand."

I raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Tony huffed, turning his back to me. I was pretty sure he was rolling his eyes, too. "You haven't even graduated high school yet," he said. "You couldn't possibly understand—"

"Actually," I interrupted. "I would. I finished high school two years ago, at fifteen. With all honors."

Bruce's eyes widened, clearly impressed. Tony, on the other hand, didn't look like he believed me. "Jarvis," he called. "Is that true?"

"Actually, it is." A blue screen shot up before Tony, entitled _Roslyn Isabella Carter-Simon_. It took me a moment to realize that it was she same file Fury had given to Steve and Bruce when I first met them. "In the summary, down below," Jarvis pointed out. "_Miss _Carter_-Simon graduated from Los Angeles High School at the age of fifteen, but due to insufficient funds was unable to attend college_," Jarvis said, reading from the file. I twirled my braid innocently.

"See?" I said. "I'm telling the truth."

Tony cocked his head to the side, for the first time seeming somewhat interested in what I had to say. _Maybe his argument with Pepper was still replaying in his mind_. "What else about you don't I know?"

"Everything," I said truthfully, and gestured to the scientist beside him. "Bruce knows more about me than you do."

Tony shifted from foot to foot, looking at me carefully, not knowing whether he should continue his wicked persona towards me, or heed Pepper's advice and start to learn to accept the fact that I wasn't leaving. "You can ask me things, you know, if you want," I said. "I mean, since I'm going to be here for a little while we should probably get to know each other."

Tony looked at me with half-interested eyes. "When's your birthday?"

I'm not going to lie, my heart sank a little bit at that one. Typical he'd want to know when my next birthday is, seeing I'd be a legal adult then and he could throw me out. "August 29th," I said, forcing the words out, hiding the hurt that I felt.

"Right. So three months from now," Tony calculated, turning back to his work. "What about allergies or medications, things like that?"

Very strict, disconnected questions. When I said he could ask me things, I meant so he could get to know me better. Not so he could ask me stereotypical doctor-office questions. Nevertheless, I thought for a moment. "Not really any," I said. "I just don't like eggs. Or bananas. But no real allergies. And I've never really needed any drugs, except for when I'm sick."

"Why do you talk like that?" Tony asked, referring to how I had trouble pronouncing the word 'sick.' "It's like you have this sort of accent."

"Yeah," I said, twiddling my thumbs in my lap awkwardly. "I know. My mom was French, and she had a pretty thick accent." _Not that he would remember._ "It kind of stuck with me." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't like it very much."

Tony shrugged, keeping his focused solely on his work. "We all have things we don't like, kid," he said, fingers working diligently. I craned my neck to see what he was fixing. It was a red and yellow arm, part of the Iron Man suit. Part of the one that I nearly destroyed back in New York. I winced inwardly, a pang of guilt rippling through me.

"I'm really sorry about that," I said sincerely. "It can be fixed, right?"

"Of course it can be fixed," Tony said, not missing a beat. "I'm a billionaire mechanic. Fixing things is what I do."

I looked at him thoughtfully. "They're your passions, aren't they?" I said, thinking aloud. "The suits, I mean. They're like a part of you, even without the arc reactor."

Tony smiled down at the armor, eyes crinkling at the edges. "Yeah," he said. "They are a part of me. It's been that way for a while. Ever since the _Incident_."

My brows furrowed. "_Incident_?" I asked, hoping desperately that he wasn't referring to our encounter in New York. "What _Incident_?"

Tony paled. He shook his head, and a ringing silence fell between us. I immediately regretted asking the question. Talking with Tony, _really_ talking to him, was like skating on thin ice—I didn't know which question would send me deep into dark, cold water. I rolled up my sleeves, suddenly feeling very hot. That was probably due to the heat that was racing through my body from being in the awkward situation. Tony's eyebrows knitted together as he noticed the dozens of marks covering my arms.

"What are those?" he asked, his large hand gesturing to the pale lines on my arms. He squinted a bit, as if doing so would make the marks go away. "Are those _scars_?"

_Dammit_. I started to blush, heat thumping in my cheeks, and I went to roll my sleeves down. "Yeah," I said, a little embarrassed. "They're scars. I have a lot of them, actually."

He looked at me, confused. "Why?"

I bit my lip, debating whether to tell him or not. "I grew up on the streets of Los Angeles," I said, and painful, agonizing memories pushed their way through. "I was always really small, and I got beat up a lot. I used to be able to handle myself, though. The little marks are from when I was younger. But things just got worse when I got older," I looked at the floor. It was clean and white, absolutely pristine. "I got into a lot of fights, and I didn't exactly have the upper hand, as you can tell."

Before he averted his gaze, I saw Tony's eyes fill with something I never expected—sympathy. "Oh," he said. "I'm sorry."

I smiled, shrugging lazily. "It's alright. I'm stronger now because of it."

Tony looked back at me, his eyes locking with mine. There was befuddlement in his features, but also amazement, like he was realizing for the first time that I was human, that I could be hurt, but more importantly that I was more like him than he originally thought.

"Roslyn," Jarvis said from overhead, shattering the moment. "I believe that Steve had returned home, and requests your presence upstairs."

"Oh," I said, the surprise showing through my voice. "Okay. Alright, um, tell I'll be right up."

I glanced back at Tony, who was now snapped out of his bewildered-but-amazed state. Instead he was looking at me with calm, collected eyes. Still, they weren't cruel. _Had I broken through to him_?

"You should probably go," Tony said. "We have time to talk later. Plus, the science bros are at work here."

I nodded. I'd completely forgotten of Bruce's presence. "Alright. Well, I'll see you later then," I said, rising from the stool. I strolled out the door, feeling a new sense of triumph. The conversation with Tony had gone well. He hadn't glared at me at all during or after our talk, so I chalked that up to a success.

However, if I had remained in the workshop-basement, I would've seen Bruce turn to Tony, a giant smile plastered on his face. "What?" Tony said.

"You know what," Bruce said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "You just had a normal conversation with your daughter."

"Yeah. What's your point?" Tony said. "Does this make me father of the year now?"

"Might as well," Bruce said. "I saw the way you talked to her, Tony. I know you don't want to hate her."

He stiffened. "I don't hate her," Tony said, and before he could stop it, the truth flew from his mouth. "She just reminds me too much of Estelle." Bruce raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Tony sighed. "Her mother," Tony explained. "She was so beautiful, and vibrant, and intelligent, and full of life. What I did to her is unforgivable. No woman deserved that, especially not a woman like her. And Rosie, she just looks so much like her that every time I look at her, I see Estelle, and every memory of her comes rushing back. It's like looking into the past and reliving every mistake I've ever made."

"So it's beyond the fact that she's a level seven?" Bruce said.

Tony nodded in confirmation. "Way beyond," Tony said. "I mean, the level seven is a part of it, and quite frankly I'm nervous that she'll explode and hurt Pepper or someone else, or maybe even burn the house down." He paused for a moment, sighing. "But I can't hate her. She's a part of Estelle."

Bruce smiled at the other man, who smiled back. He knew Tony would never admit it, but he just might be on his way to start accepting his daughter.

* * *

**Rosie:**

"Steve?" I called out to the first floor. "Steve, where are you?"

Dead silence. No response. Not even a footstep. "Steve?"

"I believe he's in his room, Roslyn," Jarvis said, politely coming to my aid. I cringed at the sound of my full name. It reminded me of rich Ian Ald, who never ceased to call me Roslyn at least once in any of our encounters.

"Thank you, Jarvis," I said. "And, from now on, please call me Rosie. It's weird being called by my full name."

"Of course, Rosie," Jarvis said ever-so-gentlemanly. "And I do think you should know that his room is off the hallway in the foyer. It'll be the second door on the left."

"Right. Thanks."

"Not a problem."

I followed Jarvis's directions. The first time I came into the house, I hadn't noticed that there was a hallway off the foyer. It was well-hidden, almost a secret passageway. If Jarvis hadn't told me where it was, I probably would've missed it. When I came to the second door on the left, I rapped my knuckles three times on the perfect white wood. Part of me knew I should've felt sick to my stomach, but I didn't. If it had been anyone else requesting my presence in a bedroom, I probably would've made a face and told them to get lost, that I wasn't that kind of girl. But this was different. Steve was different. Though I really didn't know him all too well, he didn't give me any creepy vibes. He seemed innocent, genuine, pure. He was one of those people that you trusted the moment you had a conversation with them, though you couldn't quite explain why.

"Come in!" I heard Steve call, his voice muffled by the door between us. I wrapped my small fingers around the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

His room was nothing like the rest of the house. I guess Pepper forgot to mentioned that each of the rooms were tailored to the person's personal interests. Steve's room was simple, traditional, not at all matching the modern theme of the rest of the house. It was complete with a simple king-size bed with a simple pale blue sheets, a simple rug, simple chairs and a simple wooden bookcase. It was warm, cozy, and reminded me a bit of a getaway cabin. My eyes rested on Steve, who was rising up from a cushiony chair, placing his book on a side table.

"Hi," I said, closing the door soundlessly. I pulled my floppy braid over my shoulder. I had to remind myself to keep my eyes on his, though it was rather difficult to do with him wearing a tight green tee that accentuated his muscles in all the right places.

"Hi," he responded, a crooked smile spreading across his face. I hated that smile. He obviously didn't know it, but he could charm the pants off the nun with that smile. Not that he would want to.

"Jarvis said you wanted to see me?" I said, coming closer to him, rubbing my forearm. The wood beneath my feet was cool and refreshing. I'd flirted with far too many guys in my seventeen years, but Steve wasn't exactly the kind of guy I could flirt with, and that gave me twisty knots in my stomach.

"Right," Steve said, and lifted a large package from the floor. "I hope you don't mind I asked Jarvis to get you. I mean, I asked him where you were and he said you were in the basement talking with Tony, and I didn't want to interrupt." His blue eyes locked with my chocolate brown ones as I took a seat on the edge of his bed. "How did that go, exactly?"

I shrugged, playing with my braid between my fingertips, trying not to notice the flex of his biceps while he held the box. "I guess I can safely say that it went well," I said. "I mean, he and I had a pretty normal conversation, for the most part."

"For the most part?"

"We talked about my past a little bit." _Dear God, don't let him ask what we talked about_. I pulled my blue sleeves down further for insurance.

"Oh. Right. Well, it's good you two are finally talking," he said, deciding not to ask me to elaborate on Tony and my conversation. _Thank you, Jesus_.

I felt my lips pull into a smile. "Yeah. It is. I mean, I hope he and I can at least have a normal relationship, even if it's not a father-daughter one. I just want to be able to live under the same roof with him without fighting, you know?"

Steve nodded, running his fingers through his blonde locks. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

I nudged my nose in the direction of the parcel in his arms. "What's that?" I asked curiously. Steve's eyes snapped to the box.

"Oh. Right. This is for you, actually," he said, awkwardly handing me the box, which was a lot heavier than it looked. I eyed it carefully. It was a larger box, wrapped up with string instead of paper. I pulled the scratchy strings off, and opened up the top. My eyes widened at what was inside. _Books_. Dozens and dozens of books. Their perfect covers, unbroken spines, and unturned pages made my insides itch to get their hands on.

"I saw you reading the other day," Steve explained, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck. "And when I was out today I just thought I'd get you some reading material, seeing as you can't do it yourself because you're locked up in here and all. And far be it from me to assume that you don't have stuff to read. I mean, I'm sure you do, but I just thought I'd—"

"Steve," I said, smiling as I cut him off. "It's okay. Thank you."

"It's no problem, really," he said. "I just kind of wanted to make up for you cooking for me yesterday, too. And I don't want you to feel alone."

I cocked my head at the last part, my eyes searching his. "Alone? What do you mean?"

Steve looked like he immediately regretted adding that last comment. "Well, I guess I mean what I said. I don't want you to feel alone, because I know how easy that feeling can come over people. And I know that being stuck here probably isn't fun, so I guess I just want you to feel like you've got a friend."

I liked the sound of that, Steve and I being friends. "I thought we became friends when I made you twelve thousand waffles," I said, playfully folding my arms over my chest.

"We did," Steve said, smiling equally as playfully as I was. "And it was only four dozen."

"Like you'd know how many there were. You just inhaled them all."

"I did not!" he protested. "I thoroughly enjoyed each one."

"Sure you did. That's why you finished a dozen of them in thirty seconds."

Soon enough, Steve and I were in a full on argument, smiling and laughing through the whole thing. I eventually lost track of how long I was in there, too busy noticing how much my stomach hurt due to our constant giggling. I didn't have much going for me right now, but it was comforting to know I had at least one person on my side for sure.

And one person was all I needed.

**I really hope y'all liked this chapter! It was so difficult for me to edit, because I have to study for finals, then I had a stomach bug which was God awful. But I made a commitment to myself that I would get this chapter in for all of you, so I did! This time next week, I'm literally going to be pounding out chapters every day though, because I'll be on summer vacation finally! Woohoo! Anyway, even though I don't feel like I did this chapter justice, there is a bit of Steve and Rosie fluff! Fluffiness, hooray! There is much more of that to come, and there's also a little glimpse of Rosie and Tony talking like normal, civilized human beings. Please leave your comments and reviews, and let me know what you think of Rosie and Steve getting close;) What would their couple name be even? Reve? Stosie? Stovie? Stovie, OH MY GOD, that's fun to say! Alright, enough of my strangeness for now! Thank you to all those who follow/favorite/review Dancing In the Darkness, and if you decide to follow/favorite/review I will love you forever and ever and ever! Thanks for reading, love y'all, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**This chapter was brought to you by my three day weekend!**

**Rosie:**

_"Making friends, now are we, Roslyn?" rich Ian Ald said, his voice bouncing off the walls back at me, making me jump. I didn't understand how he was doing that. Something was… Off. Different. This dream wasn't like any of the others. There was no real setting. Everything was black, a dark, empty, void. It was just me and Ian Ald. Me, and him, and nowhere to run._

_ "What is this?" I asked, attempting to not show the fear in my voice, but failing miserably. Ian Ald smirked, enjoying the fear laced in my words._

_ "I told you I didn't care how many times I had to break you," he reminded me. "One of your biggest fears is being alone in the unknown, lost with your thoughts, with nowhere to run." He eyed the blackness around us. "I just made your fear a reality."_

_ "You're twisted," I said, my breath hitching in my throat. "You're seriously twisted."_

_ "Oh, Roslyn," he laughed darkly. "You haven't even begun to see my twisted side yet." He cocked his blonde head to the side. "Would you like a preview?"_

_ Before I could utter a word, Ian Ald was gone. A cool hand touched my neck, and I yelped. Was this an illusion? Had he teleported? My mind was spinning with questions. Ian Ald fisted his hand into my hair, inhaling the scent of my orange tresses deeply. My body prickled with shivers._

_ "I must say, Roslyn," he murmured into my hair. "Your scent is absolutely intoxicating. It's sweet, feminine. Like vanilla," he mused. "I wonder if that solider thinks the same thing…"_

_ My eyes widened. "Who—You mean Steve?" I said. Why would Steve care if I smelled like vanilla or not?_

_ "Oh, yes," he drawled slowly, his voice more suggestive than it should have been. "Steve, the super solider. I know how much time you two have been spending together lately," Ian Ald said, his breath fanning against my ear. "The morning chat, the waffle incident, the book exchange… What do you say? Does he fancy you, do you think?"_

_ My eyes widened at the thought. "Fancy me?" I repeated. "We've had a whole of three or four conversations with each other."_

_ "Ah, yes," Ian Ald breathed, releasing my hair from his hands, ghosting his fingertips down my arm. "But that doesn't mean he isn't a bit taken with you. After all, you are a very pretty girl, and he did mention about how you reminded him of a girl he used to know… And that smile of yours is sure to melt anyone's heart, including his."_

_ I spun out of his grip, nostrils flaring. "Don't try to flatter me," I growled. "Steve and I are only friends. Nothing more."_

_ He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he said, intrigued. "But yet it would still hurt you if you saw him like this."_

_ Suddenly, Steve was laying on the floor between us. Stab wounds covered his body, blood oozing from the severe injuries. His breaths were no more than strangled gasps, and I could see the life draining from his eyes. "Rosie…" he gasped. I screamed, falling to the floor beside him._

_ "It would kill you to see him like that, wouldn't it?" Ian Ald said. His mouth twisted into a cruel, satisfied smile, baring his white, even teeth at me. "To see him dying the same death your parents did."_

_ "No, please!" I begged, though I wasn't entirely sure whether I was begging for Steve's life or my sanity. Or both._

_ "It would," Ian Ald confirmed. "It would kill you to see anyone like this, let alone another person you care about. And you do care about him, Roslyn, no matter how small that part of you is, you care about this soldier."_

_ "Stop," I pleaded. "He doesn't deserve this! He's a good man!"_

_ "As was your father, but that didn't stop me now did it?" His words ripped through my soul, shattering me. "How does it feel, Rosie, to know that you had to stand back and watch your parents' murders? Or that you never even held proper funeral for them?"_

_ A sorrowful dagger tore me open from the inside. My body gave out, collapsing onto Steve's bleeding chest, my tears drenching his shirt. "Please," I begged, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. "Stop this. Stop this nightmare…"_

_ "You will give into me," Ian Ald said, his voice growing distant. "You will give into me, Roslyn, or everyone you know and love will end up like your parents."_

I sprang up, chest heaving, heart pounding wildly in my chest. My entire body was drenched with sweat, as were my sheets, which were tangled around my waist, forming a constricting cocoon around my lower half. My pillowcase was soaked as well, but with tears instead of perspiration. Bright moonlight was flowing through the windows as I untangled myself from the coils of sheets, wiping away the hair matted to my forehead.

_Ian Ald wasn't kidding when he said he was going to break me_.

I ran a hand through my hair, pulling several strands from my loose ponytail. I was tired, exhausted even. But I was unable to sleep. Sleep meant nightmares, and nightmares meant rich Ian Ald.

Even the sound of his name sent my hands balling into fists and an intense anger to course through my body. I wanted to know who he was. His _real_ name, not this stupid alias he'd given me. I wanted to find out who he was, where he lived. I wanted to kill him. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A life for a life. Kill him for killing my parents.

_My parents_.

Ian Ald was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I'd never given my parents a proper funeral. What kind of daughter was I? Granted, I'd been in a coma for four months, then I was taken by Fury and went on rampage… I sighed. I was just making excuses for myself. I was a failure of a daughter. I didn't even know where they were buried.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Jarvis?" I called. I glanced at the clock on my night side table. It was a quarter past midnight.

"Yes, Rosie?" Jarvis's soothing British accent answered. Immediately, I felt a bit more secure, even though I had to remind myself that Jarvis was just an AI, not a real person.

"I need you to search something for me," I said. I was rubbing my temples deeply, as if the action would rid the nightmare from my mind. "I need you to find the graves of Estelle Carter-Simon and Roth Simon."

"Are you sure this can't wait until morning, Rosie?" Jarvis asked. "It is very late, after all."

"Please, Jarvis?" I said. "I really need to do this now."

"Very well," he said. A blue screen appeared before me, a red circle encompassing a location in Los Angeles. "There are matches in the Los Angeles Cemetery. An Estelle Avianna Carter-Simon and Roth Gregory Simon."

"That's them," I breathed. "Jarvis," my voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. "Show me the graves."

The blue screen flashed. My breath caught in my chest, all air gone from my lungs as my eyes drank in the image before me. I was staring at two tombstones in the middle of a graveyard, one reading _Estelle Carter-Simon_, the other _Roth Simon_. I felt my knees wobble, the burning tears forming in my eyes again. I sank back onto the bed, feeling weak.

"Hi, Mom," I whispered, choking on the words. "Hi, Dad." My vision blurred, and my body jerked violently with a sob. "I'm sorry," I whispered, barely able to form words. "I'm sorry all of this happened. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better daughter…" I was practically blubbering, tears dribbling down my cheeks. "God, I wish I could go back. I would've fought them off, your murders. Or died trying." I sloppily wiped a streaming tear from my cheek. "It would be better than this. Than living with this guilt all the time."

My eyes turned to my mother's grave. "Mom," I whispered. "I need your help. I don't know what to do. About the darkness. About rich Ian Ald. About _everything_." Several tears trickled from my chin. "And Tony," I murmured. "I mean, he's arrogant, he's conceited, he's selfish… But at the same time, he's my dad, and I just…" My words trailed, and I sighed deeply. And I didn't know if it was the exhaustion, the emotional distress, or the defeat that raged inside me, but I ran a hand through my hair, and admitted to my mother my true feelings.

"I don't know why, or how, or even if I should, but I love him, Mom. I didn't think I would, but I do."

* * *

In his bedroom down the hall, Tony had also just awoken from a violent nightmare, the same one he had every night. The nightmare of the _Incident_. His mind kept replaying falling back to Earth, being pulled out of the wormhole. It was like there was something inside his head that was broken, forcing that one memory to constantly be on repeat.

If he had a heart, it would have been rapidly against his ribcage. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots, internally fighting back a panic attack. He glanced beside him, hoping he didn't wake Pepper. She was, to his satisfaction, still sound asleep, curled up into the pillows, her breathing deep and peaceful.

He swung his legs out from the tangle of the sheets, allowing them to dangle onto the floor as he continued running his fingers through his dark hair. He couldn't have another panic attack, _wouldn't _have another panic attack. He'd been doing so well; the last one he'd experienced was when he found out Rosie was his daughter.

_Rosie._

His mind went to the red-haired girl he'd talked to today. The things that she had told him he didn't want to believe. Rosie, his daughter, had spent a life on the streets, specifically Blackberry Boulevard. Instead of a shudder of disgust, he felt a pang of sorrow. He judged her so harshly about where he was from, but never considered what the girl had lived through. _Those scars on her arms_… He didn't even want to think about what the wounds would've looked like. Tony rose from the bed, his feet soundlessly carrying him over to the window.

The moon was bright tonight. Oddly bright, more so than Tony had ever remembered. It was larger, too. The last time he'd seen a moon like this he had been with…

"Estelle," Tony whispered the name quietly. He expected the name to leave a foul taste in his mouth, but it didn't. Instead, he enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue and bubbled from his lips. "Estelle," he said, again, eyes fixated on the glowing moon. He had never believed in God or heaven or the afterlife, but yet he found himself wondering whether she was looking down at him now, shaking her great curly head at him shamefully for treating their daughter so poorly.

"Estelle, I'm sorry," he whispered. "Truly, I am. You didn't deserve this. Rosie didn't deserve this…" He shook his head. He felt somewhat stupid for talking to the moon, but couldn't bring himself to stop. He knew she was there… Somehow… Listening…

"I'm just so confused," Tony said, leaning heavily against the cool glass. "Everything I do is wrong. But I don't want to fail her. I can't. I already failed you. I can't do the same thing to her..." He sighed deeply. "But I don't know what to do, Estelle. I can't stand the thought of her hurting Pepper, but the idea of leaving her on her own is even worse."

He actually cringed at the thought. If there was one fear just as great as Pepper being hurt, it was not being a good father figure to Rosie. It was a fear that had recently formed, but he couldn't deny that it was there. It had been eating away at him all day. He had underestimated her. He found out today that there was so much more to his daughter than just the fact that she was a level seven. And it killed him that Pepper had seen it, Steve and Bruce, too. Hell, even Clint saw it, but yet Tony had been blind to it until now. _Rosie was human_. And not just that. She was a little girl of seventeen that was thrown all to quickly into a situation she had no control over. Suddenly, he couldn't blame her for doing what she did. The back-talk, the sass, the fighting…

_She was afraid._

_And this was her mask_.

He looked up at the moon, which he right now considered to be Estelle. "Sometimes I wish I was the one who died," he admitted in a whisper. He swallowed hard. "You'd be better for her. You'd be able to guide her more than I can. But you're not here, so I guess it's up to me."

He felt tears burning behind his eyelids. He brought his fingertips between his eyes, rolling the bridge of his nose between two fingers. How could he possibly be a better father to Rosie? She was fiery, hurt, broken… All the things he didn't know how to deal with. He inhaled deeply, trying to soothe his reeling mind. He didn't know if it was the stress, the aftermath of the constant nightmares, or the fact that defeat raged inside him, but he ran a hand through his hair, and admitted to his lost lover his true feelings.

"I don't know why, or how, or even if I should, but I love her, Estelle. I didn't think I would, but I do."

**I wrote this at like five this morning, so if it's bad please understand! I really don't have much to say about this chapter, but Rosie and Tony are finally being civil to each other. Yay! Alright, I have to get back to studying (I hate finals!) but I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible! Please continue to favorite/follow/review, and a big thanks to all those who do, I love you so much! Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**Rosie:**

I hadn't slept in days. Literally, days. My eyelids were heavy and my mind was groggy, but I was fiercely determined not to give in. Ever since Ian Ald's last visit, I didn't have the heart to endure another one of his gruesome nightmares. Caffeinated tea, coffee, and 5-hour-energy became my best friends very quickly, along with many heating pads. Yes, heating pads. Due to no sleep, every muscle in my body began to ache from exhaustion. They were solely relying on caffeine now, which strained them to no end. However, it was the only thing keeping my gears churning these days. Caffeine, and the books that were being very well loved.

I'd thanked Steve about a million times for the dozens of books he'd given to me, which were now coming in handy during my sleepless nights. I read them constantly to fill the lonely hours of the night, turning each page more eagerly than the last. More than half of the books were finished, but I didn't let Steve know that. I didn't want him to think me ungrateful, or obliged to get me more. I had plenty; I usually reread books, anyway. My real problem in the night wasn't boredom, but hunger. Occasionally, I was able to sneak downstairs into the kitchen and snatch a couple apples or a slice of leftover pizza. And if I was really lucky, I could creep out to the garage and tinker with my baby, my car. But luck and I weren't on the same team as of late, so it was usually just me and my books.

"Afternoon, Rosie," Tony greeted me flatly, lower half of his face nestled into his coffee mug. He shuffled past Steve and I sleepily.

"Morning, Tony," I replied, not looking up from the game of cards Steve and I were playing over the coffee table in one of the various living rooms. Steve had decided that it would be a good idea to teach me an old-fashioned game that had way too many rules for my taste. But I decided to play it for his sake, anyways.

Things between Tony and I had eased up somewhat ever since our conversation in the workshop, which honestly felt like eons ago. We'd finally been able to coexist under the same roof together, which brought a tremendous amount of relief to everyone. I had to admit, it was much nicer not always having to keep a guard up and watch my back 24/7. However, something in Tony's eyes had changed. He was more watchful of me, and not in a distrustful way, but more of a paternal one. I couldn't quite place my finger on what changed in him, but I could tell it was for the better.

Or so I hoped.

"You win again," Steve said, pulling me out of my thoughts as he sank back into the chair, throwing down his cards in defeat. I rolled my eyes, a smile creeping onto my face.

"Only because you keep letting me," I shot back playfully. "You're not giving me a real challenge."

"Real challenge? You're just too good for me, Rosie."

I raised an eyebrow. "Too good, huh? Not likely, Captain. Especially not when you insist going easy on me only because I'm a girl. What is it, do you think I can't take the heat?" I said, a fair amount of flirtatiousness to my tone that brought a pinkish blush to both our cheeks.

Before Steve could respond, the roof was nearly blasted off by a deafening guitar solo. Steve went to cover his ears, but I recognized the song immediately. I rocked my head back and forth to the music, my ponytailed hair whipping in my face, air guitar in my hand. I knew this song like I knew the back of my hand, and I'm pretty sure that if I was handed a real guitar I'd be able to play each note exactly like Malcolm Young.

"What in the name of God is this?" Steve asked over the mighty roar of the music. "It sounds like a train wreck!"

I burst out into laughter. "It's ACDC! One of the best rock bands of all time!" I explained, laughing. "Might want to cross this one off your list, while you're at it!"

The music was lowered abruptly, and the sound of someone else's laughter tickled my ears. _Tony's laughter_. I glanced up at the dark haired man, who was holding his stomach, the boyish sound coming from deep his chest. I didn't think someone like him was capable of that kind of laughter.

"Steve, the senior citizen," Tony chuckled, clearly very amused. "Can't handle a little rock 'n roll…"

I could see a pink hue creeping up Steve's neck to his cheeks again. "Oh, leave him alone, Tony," I said cheerfully, pulling my hair back into a more secure ponytail.

"I agree with Rosie," Clint chimed from the doorway, a smile on his face that matched Tony's. The assassin wore all black, and I was pretty sure there was a gun hooked onto his clothing somewhere. "It's not his fault he's still stuck in the wrong era."

I rolled my eyes at the two men, hooting with laughter. Steve shook his head, running a hand through his hair, something he only did when he was nervous. "Don't listen to them," I said, collecting the red deck into a neat little pile. "Everyone's got different tastes in music. Plus, ACDC might be a little too hardcore for you, anyway."

That caught Clint's attention. "Hardcore music? You wanna talk hardcore music?" Clint said, his head snapping in my direction. "Because we can talk hardcore music."

Over the past few days, I'd been seeing more and more of Clint. He was an open, boyish kind of guy, with a flirtatious side that I'd seen him use a lot with Natasha. At least, that was when he wasn't in assassin mode. The man I was growing to know was much different than the one I'd met on the Helicarrier. He wasn't cold and hardened like I thought he was. Instead, he was friendly, even a bit juvenile.

_And most of the time he wouldn't shut up_.

"What about hardcore music?" I asked as he plopped down onto the couch beside Steve.

"Don't you play innocent with me. I hear you blasting Metallica till midnight," Clint said good-naturedly. "And the Eagles, too, and sometimes even a little bit of Aerosmith. But mostly you're playing Guns 'N Roses all the time, which is a bit ironic, if you think about it." An impish grin crossed his features. "I'm calling you Roses from now on."

"Guns 'N Roses?" Tony called from the kitchen, finally catching on to our conversation. "Now _there's_ a rock band!" He waved his spoon at Clint for emphasis. "Steve, write it down."

But instead of whipping out the tiny marble notebook, Steve sent a suspicious look back at Tony. "What are you doing in there?"

"Experimenting," Tony replied flatly, turning on the roaring blender. I winced. It never ended well when Tony experimented with food. I was pretty sure that Pepper actually swore him off from cooking duty. My stomach churned as the mixture in the blender turned a chunky green color. It reminded me of slime from a lagoon.

_Who the hell was he making that for_?

The three of us watched Tony with curious eyes as he lifted the blender into the air, sloshing the green liquid over the counter. He didn't even bother to pour it into a glass. Instead, he grabbed a liquid from the cabinet, and drained its clear contents into the glass tube. I fought the urge to throw up.

_Was he actually going to drink that_?

All three of us were making the same disgusted face as Tony came over to us, his eyes locked solely on me. He pushed the horrifying blend in front of my face. It smelled as foul as it looked. Its stench was like that nasty pink medicine I had to take as a child.

"Drink it," he said firmly. My eyes bulged, and I stared at him, horrified. _Was he actually crazy_?

I shook my head, ponytail swishing against my back. "I'm not drinking that."

"But look," Tony snatched my cup of coffee from the side table, and poured it into the blender. "It's even caffeinated."

_And maybe even poisoned._

I made a repulsed face. The ugly concoction actually looked like vomit. No one in their right mind would drink that. _Ever_. But if there was one thing I knew, it was that Tony was just as stubborn as I was. I found that out a few days ago when I tried to repaint my room. "You're not going away until I drink it, are you?" I said, my eyes firmly locking with his.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.' I sighed, irritated. I wasn't getting out of this. I didn't want to drink the Juice of Death, but I couldn't exactly go back the an unruly relationship with him, either. I mean, we had just started to coincide with each other.

"Fine," I said reluctantly, taking the foul drink from his hands. The stench hit my nose, and I felt the bile rising to the back of my throat. I couldn't bring myself to look at it. Instead, I turned to Steve and Clint, who were gawking at me from the opposite couch. "Bottoms up," I said flatly, raising the drink in the air. I didn't hesitate for a response. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my head back, taking a giant gulp of the Death Juice.

Not even five seconds after, I gagged. The liquid burned down my throat. That was probably due to the coffee. My stomach churned angrily, and I fought the urge to throw up. I coughed, a hideous hacking sound coming from my throat as my body tried to reject the liquid. If acid had a taste, this would be it.

I felt the couch move beside me, the cushion sagging beneath someone's weight. "It's alright. You're okay," Steve said softly. He had moved rather quickly, and was now sitting by my side attentively, his hands rubbing my back in soothing strokes while glaring up at Tony. "What the hell?" I heard him say.

"It was necessary," Tony said, taking the cup from my hands. "Just keep her sitting. If she gets up there'll be a real mess."

"Tony, what did you do to her?" Steve said. I couldn't look up at them. If I did, I would surely throw up. So I focused on Steve's large hands, soothing the small of my back.

"Don't worry, I didn't poison it," Tony said, and I felt the soldier's muscles relax. "Jarvis!" he called out. My brain pounded loudly in my head. Niagara Falls raged in my ears. I felt Steve slip his strong hand into my clammy one, his fingers giving mine a comforting squeeze.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Jarvis asked from above.

"Run the test," Tony said, his voice a command. "I just gave her the medicine."

_Medicine_?

"Very well, sir," Jarvis said. "Do not worry, Rosie. You won't feel a thing, I assure you."

"What's going on?" I croaked.

"The drink Mister Stark just gave you is designed to subside whatever poison is growing inside you, and also included a liquid that is flowing through your body as we speak," Jarvis explained. "It'll allow me to try and diagnose your condition,"

_So that's what that clear liquid must've been…_

"Okay," I whispered weakly. My entire body was suddenly engulfed in blue light, the same kind that had examined my bag not too long ago. My gaze was still focused on the ground, but I could practically feel three sets of eyes boring into me. Then, as quickly as the light came, it was gone. Jarvis was right. I didn't feel a thing. I leaned against Steve for support, the circles he was rubbing on my back becoming slower and smoother.

_Was that it? Was that all it took?_

"Any diagnosis?" I heard Tony call.

"Nothing, sir," Jarvis said. "Her body is weak as it is, I suspect due to lack of sleep, which is making this much more difficult for me to diagnose." _ Dammit, Jarvis_. "But from what I can gather, the poison inside her body is highly toxic. There's no record of anything like it anywhere on the globe." Steve's hand ceased rubbing my back, instead wrapping a protective arm around me. I leaned into the comforting gesture, my head on his shoulder. "To make matters worse, the toxicity of it is also making her body weak."

I lifted my head slowly. Tony was standing, head bowed, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, trying to relieve an oncoming headache. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Actually, sir, there is one more thing," Jarvis said, making all of our ears perk. "The poison is making it's way directly to her heart."

My entire body froze. "What do you mean, making it's way to my heart?" I called out, my voice just above a whisper.

"The body is a complex instrument, Rosie. If a poison is injected or digested, the body will work to try and get the poison out of its system," Jarvis explained. "But your body is reacting differently. Instead of trying to reject the poison, your body is accepting it and pulling it to the most vital part of your body. And, from what I can gather, higher rates in blood pressure—such as becoming scared or angry—only makes the poison flow to your heart that much faster."

_Well, that explained the burning in my chest every time I became angry._

My entire body tensed, and Steve's grip tightened around me, as if to somehow protect me from the darkness that was raging inside my body. Jarvis' words terrified me. Why was this happening? Why wasn't my body rejecting the darkness? My mind immediately flew to rich Ian Ald. He knew what the darkness was doing to me. He knew that my body was accepting it rather than rejecting it. He definitely knew. He _had_ to.

"It's okay, Rosie," Tony said. He must've noticed how lost in thought I was. "I'll fix you."

I shook my head, looking up at him, not bothering to hide the desperation in my eyes. "How?"

He shrugged, a small motion. "I'm not sure yet. But I will, I promise. I'm a mechanic, remember? Fixing things is kind of what I do."

"It's alright, Rosie," Steve said, his breath fanning softly against my cheek. "You'll be okay." I nodded, my eyes locking with his. I heard a loud, "Ahem," come from my father. My gaze went to Tony, I watched as his eyes fell to Steve. The solider still had one hand locked with mine, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist.

"Steve," Tony said calmly, though I could see the anger flashing in his eyes. "Unless you'd enjoy having your hands cut off and never be able throw your shield again, I suggest removing your hands from my daughter."

Steve slipped away from me quickly, so quickly that the swiftness of his act stung a bit. I couldn't exactly blame him, though. The look in Tony's eyes was terrifying. That was something I hadn't expected. _Was he really… Being protective of me?_ _All because of a simple comforting gesture from Steve? _My eyes locked with Tony's, but I could figure him out, the fierceness from Tony's eyes had vanished.

"Now," Tony said, clapping his hands together soundly. "A bit of ACDC, anyone?"

**Finals are over, yay! That means I get to write all I please until I go on vacation. Little bit more about the darkness in this chapter, because I decided to reveal its powers/danger a little bit at a time. I also decided to give y'all a bit of Steve and Rosie here, so I hope you enjoyed it. Please keep favoriting/reviewing/following, and great big thanks to all those who do! Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Rosie:**

"That still doesn't explain why she turns into the rage monster from hell whenever she's angry," Natasha said to Clint. A day had passed—a full, entire twenty-four hours—and the darkness inside me was still the talk of the Stark household. Every conversation, every slight chat traced back to me and the poison.

"It could be some sort of side effect," Steve said, sitting comfortably on a recliner, newspaper in hand, eyes reading lazily across the local news. He looked like he was straight out of a 1940's ad. Natasha cocked her head to the side.

"Side effect?"

"Like a repercussion from the poison," Bruce explained, chiming in from the desk in the corner, furiously scribbling onto a sheet of paper. "Like how the Other Guy is big and green, her hair just goes black."

"So do her eyes," Clint commented. "Her eyes go from brown to completely black. And she gets those spidery veins down her face."

I sighed deeply, sprawled out on the couch, playing with my straight hair that had been thrown lazily over one shoulder. "Can you please stop talking about me? I'm sitting right here, you know."

Natasha shot her gaze to me. "Yeah," she said flatly, blue eyes boring into my soul. "I know."

I rolled my eyes. Natasha was not my biggest fan. Every time she saw me, a death glare was immediately fired in my direction. Granted, I'd also tried to kill her back in New York. But who _hadn't_ I tried to kill in New York, really?

"Looks like we'll have to keep your emotions under control from now on," Clint said, putting an end to the glares between Natasha and I before we lunged at each other. "Maybe you can take some lessons from Bruce, huh, Rosie?"

"Might as well," I said. "No anger, no horror movies, no exercise, nothing that can increase my heart rate. You might as well just lock me back in that glass prison and call it a day." I turned onto my stomach, eyeing Clint curiously. "What do you suppose happens if the poison does reach my heart?"

Clint shrugged, sinking back into his recliner. "Dunno. It could be pretty serious though. Both Fury and Jarvis did say the poison was highly toxic. It's possible that it could—"

"Don't say it," Steve said quickly, cutting him off. Clint mashed his lips together in a swift motion. The room fell silent, but thought still went through all of our minds, anyway.

_If the poison reached my heart, I could die._

That was one thought I didn't want to think about. Though death didn't scare me, I wasn't exactly eager to meet my demise.

"You shouldn't call it poison," I said, shattering the gloomy silence that fell over us. "It's the darkness."

The four of their heads lifted in unison, and they all stared at me like I had gone insane. But, in a way, I had.

"The darkness?" Steve said, eyebrows raised. "Isn't that a little bit sinister?"

I swallowed hard, immediately regretting the comment I'd just made. _I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut._ The only two people I'd ever heard call it the darkness was the demon at S.H.I.E.L.D. and Ian Ald. I couldn't even begin to tell them about the nightmares, about rich Ian Ald, and especially not about the demon I'd encountered, and quite possibly hallucinated. They wouldn't understand. Or, worse than that, they might deem me crazy, unstable, and ship me right back onto the Helicarrier. I shuddered—that was the last thing I wanted.

"Well, it just seems better than calling it the poison all the time," I said, thinking quickly. "I just thought the darkness might work better, cause I look all nightmare from hell, y'know?"

Steve cocked his head to the side, looking at me thoughtfully. Bruce wiped his glasses clean on his shirt, and Natasha was definitely diagnosing me as psycho. Clint was the one to speak, giving a lazy sort of shrug. "I like it. It's kind of got a nice ring to it."

Natasha's eyes narrowed at me. "Why don't you just call it what it is—poison."

_Lady, if rich Ian Ald—the bastard who damn _invented _this—calls it the darkness, I'm pretty sure that's it's official name._

"Leave her alone, Natasha," Bruce said before I was able to get any words out. "I call him the Other Guy instead of the Hulk, and you don't have a problem with that."

Natasha's gaze snapped to the dark-haired man. "That's different."

"How?"

Natasha's brows furrowed. She was thinking hard to find a reasonable answer. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged, to my ultimate surprise. Bruce had rendered the assassin speechless. I shot a glance at Bruce, mouthing a silent, "Thank you." He winked in response.

"Yeah, cut her some slack," Steve chimed to the silent assassin. "She's not allowed to get up and leave like the rest of us. She's cooped up in here with her thoughts everyday."

"You can hardly say I'm cooped up," I said, a smirk playing at my lips. "This place is like a palace. More than enough legroom."

"Just wait until you see Avengers Tower, Roses," Clint said. "It gives a whole new meaning to the word palace."

"Speaking of palaces," I said, changing the subject fluidly. "Where'd the mighty Thor zip off to?"

"He went out," Bruce answered. "Probably to see Jane."

I raised an eyebrow. "Jane?"

"Love interest," Clint explained. "Tries to see her whenever he can, considering he's not down here on a regular basis."

_Made sense. _I nodded in response, a warm breeze blowing through the open window then. Salty air filled my nose, lingering bittersweet on my tongue. Wind chimes sounded delicately. I closed my eyes, embracing the sweet wind on my cheek. As big as the Stark house was, I couldn't help but hate being confined to inside the walls. I wasn't an indoors kind of girl. I loved being outside, driving in my truck, all four windows rolled down with the wind whipping through my hair. Being trapped in the house was hell for me. Granted, having a window open helped, but it just wasn't the same.

"You okay, Rosie?" Steve asked.

"Hm?" My eyes fluttered open. Steve's blue eyes were peering at me curiously over the tip of his newspapers. "Yeah," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm fine."

"Just tired of being confined in the house, right?"

_Dammit. _I sighed. Might as well tell the truth, considering I didn't have the energy to lie to him. "Like you can't imagine," I said.I watched as Steve gave the newspapers a quick flourish, folding them up neatly and setting them down on the glass coffee table. His eyes met mine, calm and collected.

"Well, there's a carnival tonight," he said, motioning to the colorful ad plastered on the front of the paper. "How do you feel about going out for a bit?"

**Just a little bit of chatting here, nothing very interesting. Sorry! The next chapters will have more action, though, so stay tuned! And fair warning, I'll be posting a new chapter probably once a day or every other day, considering I'm off for summer vacation now. Hooray! Thanks to all those who read Dancing In the Darkness, and special thanks to all those who review/follow/favorite! I LOVE YOU ALL3 Please keep following/reviewing/favoriting, because I really appreciate it! Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**ReadPaxJoy: I'm glad you like it! :) You don't have to thank me for the update, but I need to thank you for reviewing! So thank you for reviewing! :3**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Rosie:**

I'm not going to lie, I was very doubtful that Steve's plan to go to a carnival would follow through. I mean, a level seven out and about? Highly unlikely. But Steve had convinced Natasha somehow, and after all, Fury had said that if I were to step foot outside Stark's grounds, I had to be accompanied by at least two Avengers. Steve had agreed to accompany me, but Bruce was busy with Tony, resulting in us having to take one of the assassins. So here we were, Steve, Clint, and I, the three of us huddled into my orange truck, seeing as Tony wouldn't let any of us so much as breathe near his precious cars, let alone drive them.

I glanced over at our driver. "Steve," I said, watching how gingerly he was driving my truck. "My baby's not delicate, so stop holding the wheel like it's glass. You could crash this car into that building over there and he'd barely get so much as a scratch."

Steve flashed that crooked smile, the one that made it clear why he had so many fan-girls. "You're not very protective over this car, are you?"

"Protective? Yes. Scared? No," I said. "It takes a lot to try and destroy my baby. Believe me, I'd know."

"How many times have you crashed it, exactly?" Clint chirped from the backseat. I thought for a moment.

"Well over a dozen," I answered. "But nothing too serious, though. Just enough to bash in the windshield a couple times."

"Remind me to never let you drive," Clint said in a joking, brotherly way, and I could hear the smile forming in his face.

There was a bit of chatting here and there, but rest of the ride was pretty much driven in silence. The radio was turned on at some point, and Clint hummed contently along to whatever song was playing. He seemed to know them all. I glanced over at Steve from time to time, and was grateful he never caught me looking at him. It just felt too strange to me that the super solider was sitting next to me, driving my old, beaten up, worn down car. I rolled down my passenger side window, allowing the sunset breeze to whip my hair back. Behind us, the sky was growing pink and red, streaked with varying shades of yellow and orange. Sunset had always been my favorite time of the day. It veiled everything in a luminescence more beautiful than candlelight. I smiled to myself. I was going to treasure every moment I was out tonight, away from the confinement of the house.

Before long, we'd reached the carnival. The cheerful music and childish laughter poured out from the flashing lights and dozens of rides. I hadn't gone to a carnival since I was eleven or twelve. I felt like a giddy little kid again as I climbed out of the truck, giant smile pasted on my face.

"So, I'm taking it you like carnivals?" Steve said, noticing the smile on my face. I nodded eagerly.

"I haven't been to one in ages!" I exclaimed. "My family and I, we used to go every summer when I was little. I used to save up my allowance from Christmas until June and then spend it all on games and tickets. I'd always go on the carousel with my mom, but the Ferris wheel was always my dad's favorite." The smile ran away from my face quickly, a aching pain stealing away the happiness in my heart. "Of course, that all changed when I got older. Especially when we had trouble with money…"

Cue another pang of sadness. Never again would I get to ride the Ferris Wheel with my step-dad, like we'd done so many times in the past. I looked up at the sparkling Ferris Wheel longingly, glowing and glimmering with color. The top of it, when it stopped and you could see for miles and miles, had always been our favorite place in all the world. Reality was gone then, and you could escape the world for just a couple moments, so high up you could practically kiss the stars.

"Rosie," Steve said, picking up on the sudden drop in my mood. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," I said, forcing a smile back onto my face. "Let's go, shall we?"

I breezed by him, feet treading swiftly on the dirt path. I heard the car door slam shut as Clint got out. He murmured something like, "What was that all about?" I sighed. _Why did I always have to do that?_ It was like everything I said had to trace back to my parents, my past, or some secret about me that I didn't want known to them.

_Like my life on the streets_.

I ran a hand through my orange locks, setting my eyes on a carnival game, where a man with a big red moustache was announcing loudly, "Step right up and test your skills! C'mon, don't be shy! All it requires is a bit of precision and accuracy! Six figures, that's all it takes! Shoot 'em down and win a prize!"

I stepped closer to the game booth, curiosity getting the best of me. The game was one of the shooting ones, where you had to shoot as many things as you could with a bebe gun they provided. The figures the man was talking about were flat and wooden. Red boats, yellow ducks, and blue birds all fixed on different rotating devices that were set up all over the inside of the booth. The figures were moving at an alarming rate, making them next to impossible to shoot down. I smiled mischievously.

_Impossible was my middle name. Well, besides Isabella._

"Feel like trying?" Steve said, appearing by my side, Clint close on his heels. I nodded.

"How much to try?" he asked, turning to Big Moustache Man.

"Three bucks! Three bucks for six shots!" Big Moustache Man said broadly. Steve pulled out a brown leather wallet, and flipped three singles into Big Moustache Man's hand.

"For you or the lady?" he asked, his eyes flickering to me.

"Him first," I said, motioning to Steve with my chin. "Then I'll try."

Steve's blue eyes turned to mine. _Now how was it that the bright lights of the carnival made him even more attractive?_ "You sure?" he said. I nodded. "I'll take three shots," he suggested. "Then it's all yours."

I watched closely, pulling my jean jacket tighter around my shoulders as Steve lifted the bebe gun. The butt of the gun fit snugly under his arm, and it became clear that he was an expert at handing weapons. He shut one eye, targeting the moving figures expertly, taking careful aim. The expression on his face was undeniably focused.

_BAM!_

_ BAM!_

_ BAM!_

Three dull shots rang out. Steve lowered the gun, muscles flexing as he did so. _Well, that was hot._ The thought raced into my head before I could stop myself. I glanced over at the wooden figures. There were bullet holes straight through one of the boats, the beak of a bird, and the belly of one of the ducks. I smiled at him, running a hand through my hair.

"Impressive, soldier," I said.

"Show off," Clint remarked. "Trying to impress the lady, are you?"

A healthy red blush flowed into the super soldier's cheeks, making them redder than ripe tomatoes. "Your turn," he said, avoiding Clint's gaze, handing the gun off to me. I got as close to the booth as I could, chewing my bottom lip, firmly keeping my eyes on the moving targets. I couldn't look at him—he was unbelievably attractive when he blushed.

I heard his heavy steps move behind me, and not a moment later his hands were on my arms, fingertips touching my skin delicately, as if I were made of glass. I quickly realized what was going on. _Oh my God. He was going to teach me how to use a gun._

_ The Lord is testing me…_

"Now, just put the butt of the gun under your arm," Steve said, guiding the gun into the proper position. My entire body tensed under his touch. "Like that. That'll reduce some of the recoil. No, wait! Don't put your hand there." His fingers took hold of my hand, moving it to grasp the barrel of the gun. "There. Now, lock your legs into place. Shutting an eye might help, too."

But I was already so far ahead of him. I squinted one eye shut, my finger on the trigger. My vicious gaze locked onto one of the moving wooden ducks.

_BAM!_

_ BAM!_

_ BAM!_

Three bebe bullets shot forward in seconds. I heard Steve and Clint take a collective gasp. The heads of three ducks were missing. I smiled triumphantly, lowering the weapon. All three of them—Steve, Clint, and Big Moustache Man—had their mouths dropped open in awe.

"What?" I said innocently, giving the gun back to the now gaping Big Moustache Man. "Didn't think I could shoot, huh?"

Steve swallowed hard. "Rosie," he said. "Remind me to never get on your bad side again."

"What a little sharpshooter," Clint muttered, still staring at the missing heads of the wooden ducks, clearly impressed. I flashed a smile, a mischievous giggle emitting from my throat.

Then I saw it. A whoosh of white-blonde hair, dressed in all black. My giggling stopped abruptly, the smile running away from my face. I looked around quickly, eyes scouring the faces of the crowd. All strangers.

_But that blonde hair wasn't._

I gulped loudly. My instincts were all on edge, anxiety straining all of my muscles. _Was it… It couldn't be!_ "We have to get out of here," I said urgently. "We have to get out of here _right now_."

"Why?" Steve's face flashed concern. Clint looked around anxiously, his Avenger persona immediately pushing forth. He was no longer my brotherly figure, but instead a skilled assassin. "Rosie, what's wrong?" Steve asked.

I could feel my lungs tightening, and suddenly the humid air seemed scarce. One wrong move, and things could go very, very wrong. "Just trust me," I managed. "I can't explain it. Not here. Not now."

Steve nodded, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. "Clint," he said, glancing at his fellow Avenger. "Keep your eyes open."

"They always are," Clint responded. The two nodded curtly at each other. Their Avenger sides were out now, and they were no longer two regular men. They had morphed, changed, into a super solider and a lethal assassin. We pushed our way through the crowd. I kept my head down the whole time, relying solely on Steve to guide me. Part of me was afraid to look up_. What if I did, and he was there?_

_ Damn you, fate, why do you hate me so much? All I wanted was a fun night out. Is that too much to ask for?_

We made it out to the parking lot faster than I thought, but it was still a walk to my truck, to safety. I glanced upwards, desperate to see my baby, my beacon of light and protection.

Instead, I made a horrible mistake.

_He was here_. The white-haired man from the carnival. He was right there. Shivers laced my body. He was planted firmly on the hood of a black car, leaning against it coolly. His shirt was black, ripped at the sleeves, allowing him to flaunt the many dark tattoos that clashed with his pale skin. The light from his cigarette illuminated his lip and eyebrow ring, as well as the gages of the man next to him. The white-haired man's eyes met mine.

He whistled. "Well, well," he said, his voice slick and seductive. "Look at what we have here." He took a puff from his cigarette, blowing it into the air. "Coming back to us so soon, K?"

I shook Steve's arm from my body. The fear was gone. I had to become a fighter now, turn back into the girl I used to be, the girl that had once lived a life on the streets. I'd tried to avoid this man, and failed miserably. Now I had to face him—again. My lips curled over my teeth. "Alistair…" I growled.

The man next to him looked up, shaggy brown hair bouncing as he did so. "Krueger?" he said, squinting, as if the action would allow my face to change into someone else's.

"Clueless," I greeted him with a fierce expression. The brown haired man, Clueless, grinned wickedly, and turned over his shoulder.

"Oi! Maria! Look what we've found!" Clueless called. I snarled. _The idiot_.

A tall girl appeared from behind the truck. Her hair was long and black, her skin evenly tanned, except for the crook of her arm, where big, dark bruises protruded from her veins, no doubt a side effect from all of the drugs she used. Her lips were stained red, creeping into a twisted smirk.

"Well, well," she said. Her Spanish accent was thick, exotic. "The prodigal girl returns."

I glared at her, my voice rough and toxic. "Bloody Maria."

"Nice to see you too, Missy Krueger," she said, her voice colder than ice. I could practically feel Clint and Steve's confused eyes on me.

"Missy… What?" Steve said.

"Rosie," I heard Clint say behind me. I could hear the severity in his tone. "Now would be a fantastic time for us to get the hell out of here." I could tell he was trying to hold back. I could tell that he decided these people were threats—which they were—and wanted to get me the hell out of here as quickly as possible.

Alistair inhaled another puff of smoke. He peered behind me, eyeing Steve and Clint. "What's all this, Krueger? Who are these guys?" he said, then raised a hand. "No. Wait. Don't say anything, let me guess." Another inhale of smoke. "Y'all are paying her right?" he said to Clint and Steve. "This is like some threesome, or something? You two are taking her home for the night for a little bit of fun? How much she charging these days? Eighty, ninety? Hundred a night for the both of you?"

I could feel the anger rising, burning inside me. I thought of Jarvis's words, of how I shouldn't get angry. It put my life at stake. But right now, in this moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to use the darkness to gouge out Alistair's greedy little eyes.

"Fuck you!" I hissed, the darkness inside of me growing stronger. Alistair smiled, bringing the cigarette back to his lips.

"You used to."

"Ha! _You wish_."

"Who are you?" Steve asked, his voice rigid and freezing. His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides. His knuckles were going white.

Alistair laughed, nearly choking on smoke. "Wait, wait, wait," he said. "You mean she didn't tell you?" More laughter. "Krueger's keeping secrets, huh?"

"Leave it alone, _Grave Robber_," I snarled, using his infamous gangster name. The anger was boiling inside me now. "Just walk away."

But he wouldn't. He couldn't leave the situation alone. He never could. That's why I had all the scars, all the scars from the gang I had once been in with him.

"Listen," Alistair said to a glaring Steve. "We were her people back in the day. The kids from Blackberry Boulevard used to run this fucking city. Remember, K?" His green eyes went to me. "Back in the day when times were good and we ran the streets?" Our gazes locked. I wanted to kill him. "Your girl," he said. "She's one of us. She's a gangster. At least, she used to be. Until one night little Missy Krueger went against her orders. Never did show up after that night, did you, K?"

The darkness was raging now, and it took every fiber of my being not to explode and destroy my former gang once and for all. I could feel my hair going black, my nails turning into daggers. "I'm telling you, Robber," I said, anger strangling my voice. "Walk away. _Now_."

The gangster ignored me. "Betcha wanna know why we call her Missy Krueger, too, huh?" Alistair's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas. Clueless laughed beside him like a maniac, pounding on the hood of the car.

"Tell 'em! Tell 'em! Tell 'em why we call her Krueger!" he chanted, like the idiot he was. That was how his gang name became Clueless.

"Shut up," I warned. The dark veins were protruding down my face now.

"Cause Missy Krueger," Alistair continued, baring a mouthful of white teeth, several of his gold ones visible. "She's the sneakiest gangster of us all. She'll sneak into our house at night, while your sleeping, but like that Freddy Krueger guy. Stealthy little bitch, she is. She'll slit your throat while you're asleep." I saw Steve's blue eyes go wide.

"_Shut up_," I snarled. Alistair's amused eyes turned to me.

"How many people have you killed, K? Dozens? Hundreds? _Thousands?_"

"_Shut UP!_" I screamed. I was unable to control the darkness anymore. I burst.

I felt the darkness explode from my body in one flash of black and purple. I wasn't sure exactly where it had come from—my hand, my chest, my mouth—but it had detonated, and was surging through the air violently. I couldn't see anything anymore, my eyes going red with anger. Screams pierced my ears, and a distinct, "My _eyes!_" came from Bloody Maria. I felt my knees buckle out from under me. The explosion from my body was too much for my to handle.

Everything went black.

**Cliffhanger! So I understand that this chapter can be a bit confusing because I'm adding in some original characters (and also because I wrote it at an ungodly hour), but yes, Rosie Simon was in a gang on Blackberry Boulevard, and she has just run in to he former gang. They aren't part of any specific gang, and I just kind of made them up as I went along. This is one of the first secrets about Rosie's past, because there's a lot more that is going to be revealed! Nevertheless, I hope you liked it, and please keep reviewing/favoriting/following, because I really appreciate it, and special thanks to all those who do! I should have the next chapter up tomorrow, but if I don't, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**ReadPaxJoy—I'm so happy you liked the last chapter! I'm sorry if this one didn't meet your expectations, because I'm sure when I said carnival there would be other things in mind than a bit of a plot twist! Lol, and I guess I will have to get used to the thanking part, but you had better get used to it too, so THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! I'm happy you liked it :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Rosie:**

"I don't know. All I know is that they were in a gang and they made her angry." Steve's distressed voice floated through the air. He was whispering softly, hurriedly, like he couldn't get the words out fast enough. His voice sounded so close, yet so far away…

"I don't care!" I heard Tony say in a sort of whisper-shout. "You heard what Jarvis said! That poison is making it's way to her _heart_. Any sort of intense emotion could be deadly! Dammit, Spangles, you know as well as I do that this poison could very well kill her."

"Of course I know that!" Steve snapped. "But I'm not willing to keep her locked up inside a house for the rest of her life!"

"I'm not keeping her locked up, it was Fury's orders!" Tony argued back. "And it's not for the rest of her life, it's just until we can figure this poison stuff out, so stop exaggerating!"

"I'm not exaggerating!" Steve hissed. "I just think it's ridiculous that you refuse to let her out and keep her cooped up in here like some sort of animal!"

"Ridiculous? _Ridiculous? _I'm doing what's best for her!" Tony growled. "If you want to talk about ridiculous, we can discuss that stupid skin-tight outfit you always wear. _That's_ what's ridiculous!"

"Will both of you just be quiet?" I heard Pepper hiss, and the two men immediately quieted. "I think she's waking up."

I stirred, my eyes fluttering open. I was back in my bedroom at the Stark house, snugly wrapped up in blankets, arms curled underneath the pillows. Pepper was perched at the edge of the bed, her hand resting on the calf of my leg in a very maternal way. Steve and Tony were both standing—Steve towering over my father—both of them looking just about ready to rip out each other's throats.

"What happened?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.

"You had another outburst," Pepper said soothingly. "The explosion was so violent that you fainted. You've been out for a couple hours."

"How long is a couple?" I asked. Pepper bit her lip.

"A little over twenty-four," she said. _Almost a whole day, _I realized with shock. Well, I couldn't deny that it made sense. After days without sleep my body was so exhausted, so drained, that it used my fainting to its advantage, and knocked me out for as long as it saw fit. Tony moved from behind Pepper, coming into my line of sight. He didn't look as angry as I thought be would, but his expression was definitely strict.

"We have to talk," Tony said sternly, coming over to the side of the bed. I ignored him, reaching my hand out to the super solider.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked as his strong hand slipped into mine. He shook his head.

"No. No one was hurt except for the three people you were talking to, the gang members" Steve said. "It was like your explosion was aimed directly at them."

I sighed in relief. "But we need to talk about them," Steve added, giving my hand a tight squeeze. "We all want to know why and how they knew you."

I groaned, pulling my hand from his. I turned my face into the pillow, which smelt deliciously of my vanilla perfume. I desperately wished I could go to sleep right now. I'd rather face rich Ian Ald than have to talk about this.

"Go and ask Natasha or Clint," I said, my words muffled by the pillow. "They've probably done a zillion searches by now and put the pieces of the puzzle together."

"I don't care what their research says," Steve said softly. I buried my face further into the pillow. I didn't want to explain my gruesome past. "I care about what you have to say." Steve's voice was so smooth and careful that I couldn't help but feel safe. I groaned in frustration.

"What do you want to know?" I asked. I felt Pepper's hand rub the fleshy part of my calf soothingly.

"Whatever you want to tell us, honey," her voice sounded like my mother's. I sighed rolling onto my back, not bothering to flip the hair out of my face. Tony's indifferent eyes met mine.

"Who were they, Rosie?" Tony asked. "Clint said there were three of them, all of them younger than twenty. Who were they, and how did you know them?"

I shook my head. "You won't understand," I murmured. "You'll never understand…"

"Help me try."

I looked up at my father. I never once thought I'd have to tell my past to anyone. The things I'd seen—the things I'd _done_—they all came flooding back to me in a violent, emotional tsunami, racking my brain inside my skull. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to escape the torment that was my mind.

"I've done a lot of really horrible things," I whispered, curling deeper into my pillow. "A lot of really horrible, unforgiveable things…"

"Well, I'm not exactly an angel, either," Tony said, trying to coax the information he longed for out of my mouth. I bit my lips tightly. He would judge me, and I knew he would judge me, but he wasn't leaving until I told him what he wanted to hear. I figured it was best to just say it, get it over with. _Like ripping off a band-aid._

I swallowed hard, and began to purge. "I was part of a Los Angeles gang," I said, my voice weak. "I'd been a part of it from when I was thirteen to the time I was sixteen. Three years." I took a deep breath. "I did a lot of unspeakable things." I fell silent for a moment. "I killed a lot of people."

"How many?" Tony asked.

"Well over five, but less than a dozen," I said honestly. I'd lost track after the fifth one. "I didn't want to. Honest, I didn't. But I had to. They said it was them or me. They said if I didn't, they'd kill everyone I knew and loved."

"Is that how you got the scars?" Tony asked, eyes tracing down my arms. I nodded quickly.

"They were mostly from Alistair," I explained, and looked over at Steve. "He was the blonde one, the one that also goes by the name Grave Robber. He was the gang's leader, and my boyfriend for quite a while. He used to…" My voice trailed as more memories came rushing back. I cringed.

"He used to what?" It was Steve who asked the question this time, and I could see the fury flashing in his eyes.

"He used to abuse me," I said softly. "If I didn't do his bidding, if I didn't do _exactly _what he wanted, he took out a knife. That's where a lot of these scars came from."

"I'll kill him," Steve hissed under his breath, teeth grinding angrily. "I swear to God, I'll kill him." I looked up at him.

"I got out of it, Steve," I said. "I got away from him. I went against his orders one night and decided that I couldn't hurt any more people. After that, I never showed up again. The girl I once was—Missy Krueger—just became a horrible part of my past."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Missy Krueger?"

I nodded sadly. "My gang name. It was because I had several rings that doubled as knives. They were quick weapons on the street, especially if you didn't know whether the rival gang was behind the next corner or not. My choice of weapon reminded them of that horror movie _The Nightmare On Elm Street_, where that guy Freddy Krueger had knives on his hands."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, looking a bit overwhelmed. Pepper just nodded silently the whole time, gently rubbing my leg in a soothing gesture. Steve's emotions went in and out of focus, from sympathy to anger, and he still looked like he was contemplating whether or not to find out Alistair's address.

"Yeah. The level seven's a former gang member," I said grimly. "I really am a monster…"

Tony's eyes snapped to mine. "Don't you say that." His words startled me, and I gazed up at him, mystified. _Was this the same man who wanted to kick me out less than two weeks ago?_ "You're not a monster, Rosie," Tony said. "Everyone has a past. Everyone has a certain darkness to them. I mean, look at me. I was held captive for weeks on end."

"But I've killed people," I murmured.

"So have I. And so had Spa—Steve," Tony said, correcting himself at the last moment. "I'm not saying that murder is alright, because it's not. But you only did it out of self-defense. It was either kill or be killed, right?"

I nodded. "The people I killed were all part of the rival gang. And I was being threatened."

"See? It was you or them, Rosie, and if I were in your situation, I would've done the same thing." His eyes flashed sympathy. "You're not a murderer, Rosie. You're not a killer," Tony murmured. "But promise me one more thing. No more secrets, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright. But—"

I was cut of by a _knock, knock, knock _sounding at the door_. _The noise was so loud it made me jump. "Daughter of Stark!" Thor's voice boomed, loud enough to rattle the lamp beside me. "May I enter?"

"Come in!" I shouted, my voice cracking a bit at the end. The doors to my room swung open so forcefully that I had expected them to be thrown off the hinges. Thor swept in, no longer clothed in armor and a red cape, but a regular T-shirt and jeans.

"I made my way back here as swiftly as I could when Natasha informed me of what happened," Thor said. "How are you feeling, Rosie?"

"I feel like hell, I look like hell," I said grumpily to the thunder god that towered over me. I felt like a smurf in this house of giants. I made a mental note to get myself a footstool.

"You do not look as bad as you think, Rosie," Thor said, a warm smile crossing his face. "Just tired, but that is all." He extended his hand out to me, which was even larger than Steve's. "May I?"

I nodded my head, more strands of hair falling to drape over my face. I reached my pale, tiny hand out to Thor. His fingers wrapped around my forearm gently, his eyes falling to examine the veins on my wrist. They weren't blue anymore, but more of a dark blue-purple color.

"It's getting stronger," he murmured, fingertips tracing the purpling veins under the flesh of my wrist. Tony, Pepper, Steve, and I all tensed in one fluid motion at his words. If the darkness was becoming stronger, I was becoming more lethal not only to everyone else, but also to myself.

"How can we stop it?" Steve asked.

"I am not exactly sure," Thor said with a shake of his head that rippled his long blonde hair. "I will have to converse with my father and my people back home. Perhaps they can figure out what this is and help us put a end to it." His eyes flickered from my veins to my eyes, which were wide and frightened. "Rosie," he said to me. "You have to promise me that you will not allow yourself to be in any situation that could cause this poison to become stronger. Any anger, fear, or other powerful emotion is completely off limits for you at this point. I will look to try and help you, but I must have your word that you will try to help yourself as well. Am I understood?"

"Yes," I said. "I promise."

"Good," responded the thunder god. He then turned to the three others in the room. "We should all leave Rosie in peace now. Her body needs rest to recover from her last outburst."

Pepper nodded in agreement, her soft hand patting a, "Goodnight, honey," on my hip. Tony looked at me with an expression of concern, and nodded, "Sleep tight, Rosie," before following closely on Pepper's heels. I looked at the two remaining people in my room, Thor and Steve.

"Am I going to die?" I croaked, the words emerging from my mouth before I could stop them.

"No," Steve said quickly, not missing a beat. "I'll make sure of that."

"And I will do all that I can," Thor said comfortingly. A small, broken smile crossed my face. I desperately hoped they were right. "Goodnight, daughter of Stark," Thor said with a cordial nod, heavy footsteps carrying him out of the room. Steve was the only one left. He cast me a look that said, "If you need anything, just tell me."

I pulled the blankets tighter around me as the super solider went to leave the room. "Steve?" I called out from the last moment, desperately hoping he wasn't already gone.

"Yeah?" His soft voice carried over to me from the doorway. I blurted the words before I could stop myself.

"Don't let me die, okay?" If it had been anyone else—even Pepper or Bruce—I probably wouldn't have said anything. But there was something different about Steve. There was a certain air about him that made me feel safe, protected. Maybe it was the fact that he was a solider.

"I wouldn't even dream of it," I heard him whisper. That was all I needed. I wasn't sure if he'd walked away or not, but I was much too exhausted to glance at the door to check. Instead, I curled up into the comfort of the mattress, and quickly succumbed to sleep.

**Yay for Tony and Rosie bonding time! And I don't know if y'all noticed… BUT STEVE AND ROSIE HELD HANDS! *le gasp* Could they be on their way to a relationship? Yes, no, maybe perhaps? Anyway, I hope y'all liked the chapter, and I will try to update again as soon as I can, but I leave for a 10 day-long vacation tomorrow which is super exciting. But I will do my best to update as often as I can! Let me know what you think so far, and please continue to review/favorite/comment! And to all those who do, I LOVE YOU and have some delicious cupcakes! *throws cupcakes to all* Until next time!  
-Charlotte**

**ReadPaxJoy—YOU ARE MORE THAN WELCOME! :) Yes, she is a former gang member, because I enjoy plot twists! Lol. I hope you were pleasantly surprised! Also, thank you for reviewing, there's nothing I love more than reviews, so thank you thank you thank you!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Rosie:**

_"You and the solider are becoming awfully close, aren't you?" rich Ian Ald said, seated comfortably on a wooden bench. We were in a park, one I recognized as a place I'd gone to many times throughout my childhood. But the park wasn't bustling with activity like I remembered. It was deserted, the only sound being the screech of the old swing set blowing in the breeze. It was dark, nighttime. The trees were in full bloom, and swaying with the crisp summer wind._

_ "Can I not sleep anymore without you invading my dreams?" I sighed. Although I tried to come off strong, my voice betrayed me, showing how I actually felt—weak, exhausted._

_ "No," Ian Ald said with a smile that made my insides curl. "I actually rather enjoy our little visits. You are very easy to torment, my little rose."_

_ Any other day, my lip would've curled and I would've snarled some vulgar insult at him. But my mind—and my body—was completely spent. I could do nothing but lift my head, which even in my dreams felt heavy, to look up at him. "You're going to kill me, you know that right?" I muttered out. Ian Ald's brows furrowed, his lips pursing into a puzzled expression. He rose slowly from the bench._

_ "No, no, Roslyn," he said almost soothingly. "I won't kill you. I wouldn't give you the easy way out. You know what I ask of you. Submit to me. Submit to me, rule with me, use your powers the way you were meant to." His slender fingers reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I fought not to flinch away. "Forget them, Rosie. Forget the Avengers. They'll never accept you the way I do. Forget them, and come with me."_

_ "You will never accept me," I said. "You only want to use me."_

_ "And they don't?" he retorted. "They now know about your past, things I knew from the start. They know you've killed people. Do you honestly think that Tony, or Steve," he said the soldier's name wickedly. "Will ever truly be able to accept you after that?"_

_ "I don't know," I found myself saying. "But you—you're no better. You killed the two people I cared about most in this world."_

_ "Killing your parents was necessary," Ian Ald said. "For this." He grabbed my skinny wrist, turning it over to display my blackening veins. "The darkness."_

_ "Which is slowly making its way to my heart," I told him. "Was that a part of your plan?"_

_ "Yes," he said simply, to my upmost shock. "I already know everything about this darkness, Rosie. My superiors have already informed me. And by the looks of it," he traced down my wrist the same way Thor had. "Soon enough it'll engulf your heart, and phase one will be complete."_

_ "Phase one?" I questioned._

_ "Phase one," Ian Ald confirmed. "My superiors will be most pleased," he added with a dark smile. I wanted to rip my wrist from his grip, but his hands were too strong._

_ "Superiors?" I asked. "Who are your superiors?"_

_ "Ah, ah, ah," he said, chiding me gently, placing his index finger over my lips. "Shhh. All good things to those who wait, yes?" He suddenly yanked me close, my small body pressing against his. He placed his lips to my ear. "Reconsider my proposal, Rosie." He didn't wait for my answer. "Or I will kill him. I'll take a knife and cut out his tongue. I'll burn off his lips, ears, nose, eyelids, fingers, and every other part of him while he screams for mercy. I'll stab him repeatedly in the stomach, gouge out his eyes with a spoon. I'll torture him until he's nothing more than a deaf, blind, blubbering mess. And then, with you watching, I'll kill him."_

_ The words cut through me like a knife. "No," I pleaded desperately. He hadn't said a name, but I knew exactly who he was threatening. "Please, no. He doesn't deserve that. Please. Don't…" I swallowed hard, his threat forming a bloody imagine in my mind. "Don't do that."_

_ "Then reconsider," he said. My eyes flickered to his, chocolate brown meeting dark blue. "I know your worst fears, Roslyn," he warned. "Don't make me use them against you."_

_ My breath was nearly stolen from my chest. He'd nearly rendered me speechless, all out of fear. "How?" I breathed, barely above a whisper, my words nearly inaudible. "How do you know all this?"_

_ He pulled me closer, his lips only centimeters away from mine. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet," he drawled. "I'm in here, you see." He reached his finger up and tapped my head gently. "Everything you know, so do I."_

_ The fear coursed through my body once more. I tensed him his arms. Ian Ald smiled again, his lips lowering to my neck. He placed a rough kiss on my rapidly beating pulse, and the nightmare dissolved._

When I opened my eyes, I expected to be in a cold sweat, or entangled in my sheets, or have my heart racing a thousand miles a minute. But there was none of that. I was curled up into my pillow, just as I had been when I fell asleep. I sat up slowly, peeling the covers away from my body. My throat was dry, and there was a faint burning sensation on my neck, just above my pulse.

_Right where he kissed me_.

I rose from the bed on shaky legs. My arms wrapped around my body tightly, as if that could somehow shield me from Ian Ald.

_He could get inside my head_.

Everything I knew, he knew. My past, my secrets, my emotions, the darkest, innermost parts of my thoughts that I'd pushed back to the deepest parts of my brain because I wanted to keep them hidden from the rest of the world. He knew it all. And it terrified me.

I padded down the dark hallway, my footsteps heavy and clumsy. I didn't care if anyone heard me. There was only one thing on my mind, and that was how I could somehow get rich Ian Ald out of my head. I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots. I brought my nails to my teeth, and began to bite, a horrible habit I only did when I was nervous.

I crept down the spiral staircase carefully, heading to the fridge for a glass of cold water. Ian Ald was a loaded gun to me now. There was no telling what he would do—what he was capable of—now that he knew literally every one of my thoughts. His proposal flashed through my mind again.

_"We are strong, but if we were to work together, we could be invincible. This world would be ours, and they would all be forced to bow down to us." His mouth pulled into a handsome smile. "We could rule this world with our fists of darkness."_

I shook my head. I could _never _join him. It was wrong to try to enslave mankind, and it only ended with getting your ass kicked by the Avengers. Hadn't the god Loki been a prime example of that?

But Ian Ald's threat, how he would kill someone so very close to me so violently was unbearable to even think about. I shuddered. _And he would force me to watch_. His threat began to replay in my mind like a broken record. My eyes began to water and my nose began to sting. I bit my lip hard. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed that there was a light still on. There was one person still downstairs, seated in a cream-colored armchair by the window.

"Rosie?" Steve's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I nearly jumped, whirling to face him.

"S-Steve!" I cried, my eyes snapping up to his, which were wide and concerned. He came up from the comforts of the chair gracefully, worry etched upon his features. "I'm sorry, I—I didn't realize anyone was still up," I murmured.

"I don't need much sleep," Steve said, slowly coming towards me. His footsteps were slow and careful. He was afraid to move too fast, like he might frighten me off if his motions were too quick. I averted my eyes hastily. I didn't want him to see the tears swimming behind my eyes. If he did, he'd grow even more concerned, ask why I was so upset. And I wouldn't be able to tell him, even if I wanted to. Not after the threat Ian Ald had just given me.

"Rosie, darling, look at me," Steve said gently. His fingers took my chin tenderly, pulling my gaze back to his. He looked so handsome in the dim lights. "Are you alright?"

I swallowed uneasily. "I, um… Yeah. I'm fine," I said. _Well, that was convincing._ Steve's eyes softened, and I found myself lost in their hypnotizing blue hue. His hand fell from my chin, his fingertips pushing away the hair from my shoulder.

"No. No, you're not," he murmured, his fingertips tracing down my arm soothingly. "Please, Rosie, don't lie to me. You can lie to everyone else all you want, but please, don't lie to me."

His hand fell to the small of my back, pulling me close to him. My body stiffened nervously from being so close to him. I thought of the darkness building inside me, and placed my hands firmly on his chest to keep him from coming any closer.

"Don't," I said, trying to pull his strong arm from around my waist. "The darkness. I—I could hurt you."

He seemed to consider what I said for a moment. Then small smile crept to his lips, and he looked at me knowingly. "No," he whispered softly. "You won't." Steve took my right hand in his, trailing it up to his shoulder. "See? Not hurting."

_For now. _"Why aren't you afraid of me?" I asked. My words were barely above a whisper.

"Because you're good, Rosie," he said. "You are one hundred percent good." He must've seen the doubt in my eyes, because he continued. "I know you don't believe it, but I do. So do Pepper and Bruce. Even Clint."

I let out a feeble scoff. "Don't try to make me off to be some angel," I said, studying his face closely. "You were there in that room today. You heard what I've done. You heard Thor say that the darkness is getting stronger."

"Your past is brutal, I'll agree," he said, and I tried not to wince. "But you did what you had to do to survive. That makes you a survivor, Rosie, not a monster. And as for the darkness, we'll find something to stop it, I promise. I mean, your father is Tony Stark, the man who has an obsession with fixing everything, remember?" Steve said with a tiny smile. "He'll find a cure, I'm sure of it." His forehead was nearly touching mine, and I could feel his breath fanning against my lips. "I won't let it consume you, Rose. I promise."

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep," I murmured, my eyes drifting to his lips. "And did you just call me Rose?"

"I did," he said, a slight blush creeping to his cheeks. "You're not a Rosie. Rosie seems too childish. You're a Rose. Because you're soft, and delicate…"

"And pretty," I breathed playfully, stretching up on my tiptoes. He let out a breathy laugh that sent his sweet breath fanning over my cheeks, his blush reddening.

"And pretty," he agreed, his blush now a deep scarlet. His other arm wound tightly around my waist, helping to pull me upwards. My body pressed against his. I closed my eyes, lips nearing his—

"_Oh my God_."

My eyes flashed open. _Shit._ I glanced over Steve's shoulder. Bruce was standing in the doorway that led down to the basement, his glasses askew, and a plate of a half-eaten sandwich in hand. He swallowed awkwardly.

_You moment ruiner._

"Bruce!" I exclaimed, immediately unwinding myself from Steve's arms. A fierce blush rushed to my cheeks. "Um, I didn't know you were still up." I ran a hand through my hair clumsily. "Steve and I were just… talking." I turned back to Steve before either of the two men could say another word. "Um, thanks for the talk. Goodnight," I said, chewing my lip. Embarrassed didn't even cover it. "I'll see you in the morning."

I didn't wait for a response. I turned on my heel swiftly, making my way to my room. I forced myself to walk, though I desperately wanted to break into a run. Why did I think it was a good idea to kiss him? My teeth gnawed harder at my lip. _What if Bruce told Tony_? No, I assured myself. Bruce was my friend. He wouldn't do that.

I reached my room rather quickly, thank God, and closed the door as quickly as I could without slamming it shut. My skin was still tingling from where Steve had wrapped his arms around me. A warm sensation washed through my body. I couldn't deny that Steve made me feel safe, especially when I was wrapped up in his comforting arms. Unconscious on my part, my fingertips brushed my lips, and I began to wonder what a kiss from the super solider would feel like.

A little smile formed on my lips. For everything Ian Ald had said tonight to horrify me, every word Steve said took that fear away.

* * *

Downstairs, Steve was rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks glowing with a nice cherry blush. He couldn't believe he'd very nearly kissed Rosie. He hadn't meant for that conversation to go the way it had. He'd honestly just wanted to comfort with poor girl. When she came down, she looked utterly lost in her thoughts, so hurt, so in pain. And Steve hated seeing people in pain, especially Rosie.

He wished she hadn't run away so quickly. He liked having her in his arms, though he often chided himself for the feelings he had towards her. She was the daughter of his fellow Avenger, making her completely off-limits. Yet still, he couldn't deny the attraction he had to her.

"You'll want to be more careful next time," Bruce said, placing the dish in the sink, pulling Steve out of his thoughts of Rosie. He turned to Bruce, sighing deeply.

"I know," murmured the solider, raking his fingers through his blonde hair. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do," Bruce said, fetching a fresh notebook from one of the kitchen drawers. "I see the way you look at her, Steve," the scientist explained. "You have feelings for her, and until tonight I don't think you knew how intense those feelings were. I know she reminds you of Peggy, but you have to remember that she's an entirely different person." He pulled out a green notebook from the drawer, glancing up at Steve. "I even took the liberty to see if they were related, considering they both had the last name Carter. There's no relation, Steve."

"It's not like that," Steve found himself saying. "She does remind me of Peggy, but it's more than that. I felt something for her since the moment I saw her in that interrogation room. I just didn't know what kind of feelings they were until now."

Bruce nodded. "I know. I get it," he said, fixing his glasses. "We both want to be there for her. We all do—you, Thor, Tony, Clint, Pepper, and me. But you also need to remember what she's going through right now. There are a lot of emotions she's feeling, most of them conflicting, and some that she doesn't understand. Believe me, I would know." Bruce thought for a moment. "And you also need to remember who her father is."

Steve cocked his head to the side. "What about Tony?"

"He and I are working late downstairs tonight," Bruce said, fishing a pen from a overflowing pencil cup. "If he had come up here instead of me, things could've ended a lot differently. Rosie isn't exactly daddy's little girl, but I do know that he'll protect her from men without hesitation, because the last thing he wants is for her to end up young and pregnant like her mother."

"But I wouldn't—"

"I know you wouldn't," Bruce said calmly. "But Tony is still very protective. And he doesn't play nice with others remember?"

His hand went though his hair again. "So what should I do?" Steve asked, eyes looking longingly up the stairs were Rosie had vanished. He saw Bruce shrug out of the corner of his eyes.

"I'm no expert in this department, but whatever you decide to do, just be careful," Bruce said, slipping a pen behind his ear. "Personally, I think you'd be good for Rosie. You two seem close already, and she needs someone like you to lean on." The scientist's words comforted the solider, all except for the ones he said next. "However, if Tony finds out, he'll have your head on a platter."

**So, as you can see, I'm back again! I had the longest vacation in California and I couldn't update at all, my apologies! I hope you liked this chapter, and I'll try to update as often as I can. But this chapter, though. SO MUCH FLUFF. SO FLUFFY. Too fluffy? Lol, let me know what you think of the chapter, and please keep following/favoriting/reviewing! And to those who do, I LOVE YOU THANK YOU! Until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**ReadPaxJoy—Ah, I'm so happy you liked it! I wanted their moment to be cute but not too cute and I hope I succeeded because a lot more fluff is on its way *cough chapter thirty cough* Thank you so much for reviewing!**


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